Dawn Chorus
Being that it’s an airstream, the back end is curved almost exactly like a tilt-a-whirl. A couple days before she drove it home from Roanoke, I carry my sawzall up a ladder up into the limbs of one of the two huge crepe myrtles out front of the house and carve a hollow into the canopy so that when I back it in, jack and level it, it nestles almost perfectly underneath. It’s magnificent seventies era paint job is faded, with a patchwork of bondo. It’s name ARGOSY is printed across the nose. I feel like I should have something poignant to say about Jason and the Argonauts, but I don’t. My high school buddy Matt who sold us this thing ripped out everything in the back half and retrofitted an exquisite perimeter of benches made from cherry plywood along with a platform in the way back which is where I sleep, going on a couple months now since she threw me out. I wake up with the birds, the dawn chorus, or sometimes it’s miles of train linking up not far away in the ACCA yard. I reckon...