By Road: Marcelle in a Car

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Marcelle in a car.

Marcelle is a man with some troubles.

He thinks: "I'll drive when I cannot think!"

On a long road; a black road. It's Pennsylvania in his windows, some dirt from New Jersey in his tires, and a secret he cannot get rid of in his glovebox.

He is surprised how much he has left behind this time.

Toll roads keep him wary.

He is paying a tax on everything he's done. As if the road were that friend he runs to were he running. And only if he had not taken something from that friend, too.

He will pay the tax.

In Allentown he buys coffee. Gray Scranton slips by; he buys a sandwich and eats only half.

When he crosses into New york, he begins to feel happy again.
He thinks: "Marcelle, Marcelle -- you worry too much.

He sings to himself: To everyone/to whom I've sung/don't worry/don't worry/I'm home. For a little bit between Binghamton and Painted Post, he does feel home.

Marcelle even makes up a house in his head. Bigger than his own and surrounded by trees.

It is not until dark comes that he thinks about his wife. Sadness settles back into his bones.

He grows cloudy.

He is pulled over outside of Buffalo. Terror beats its wings on his heart.

Marcelle considers using what he has in his glove box.

"License, registration."

Marcelle thinks: "What does this man know?"

Marcelle is a man with some troubles. Every man will handle trouble in a way that he can.

He remembers a time when a man bought his wife a drink. He had his choice, so did that man. And he did what he did.

He is not always proud of what he does. But a man will handle trouble in a way that he can.

Action leads to action, just as roads to roads.

But not always.

"License, registration."

Marcelle reaches for his glovebox.

Created: Jul 30, 2010

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mmlindeboom Audio Media