Johnny America


The Joy of Picking


I speed through the au­to­mat­ed toll sta­tion, let­ting up the gas ped­al ever-so-slight­ly as the Nis­san next to me eas­es too close to my lane. Ab­sent­mind­ed­ly, I pick at my left nos­tril with my pinkie, blad­ing out a crusty booger that’s been tick­ling me all af­ter­noon. The rock­er switch clicks as I pull at it, the win­dow whirrs down and lets in the rich smell of prairie burn­ing; it is Spring and the farm­ers have just start­ed blaz­ing their fields. I flick the blob of crud to­ward the high­way shoul­der and feel right with the cosmos.

Filed under Dispatches on March 27th, 2020

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