Prose. Tour, entry 1: The Devil’s Chasing Me.

Author note:

When Prose. presented the opportunity for me and my dog to go on tour for winter, to find writers and readers with a grassroots, gasoline-fueled literary mission, two words ran across my mind in scrolling neon red letters against a blackboard of subtle space junk: Hell, yes.

To ride along, follow the tour's hashtag above.

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The Devil's Chasing Me.

It began yesterday.

Fully loaded, the Northwest

winter with two days of cold sun

paving the way

we escaped down the 5

going south

blew through Oregon and

peered toward California while

the music shuffled over to

Reverend Horton Heat:

Sunset lights the sky

And there's a shadow over me

Black clouds in the east

And there's a twister underneath

I cranked up the song

reached back scratched

Chico's ear

the Sun was fading to

dark orange

and I glanced around

the sky in the rearview

north and east

it was dark with

fists of rain

red eyes

black teeth

I smiled at the boy's blue eyes

in the mirror:

"Not this year, boy."

We stared ahead and

I felt the old blood again

the old soul

the good feelings

returning

and

repairing damage.

This morning

after a long sleep

in a room

in

Yreka

the streets are wet

but the sunlight

shines south

and the road is

ready with

words.