The voices in his head have always been unkind. Over the course of his life, he devised various temporary systems of distraction to more or less keep them at bay. Mostly they're like static, a fading conservative talk show on a car radio, frequently nonsensical, most often hateful. They are clearer and louder during quiet times. There have been more of those times lately.
He usually wakes exhausted like he's defended himself through an all-night assault. Such is his state upon waking this morning in the pre-dawn on the baked-hard dirt of the roadside. His clothes are damp, and he is shivering. As he becomes aware of himself, the harsh night voices and the context they are speaking from fade into oblivion. He opens his eyes.
At first he cannot comprehend what he sees. He is looking into brown eyes, curious and surprised. Then he registers a coyote with its nose not an inch from his, ears back, tentative. The man's eyes widen involuntarily and the spell is broken. Without sound the coyote disappears into the high dry grass.
The man struggles to his feet. He cannot be sure of the reality of the situation. The top of the sun has broken the horizon. He is five feet from a deserted, two-lane paved road. The context has shifted again. Last night in the darkness the black land to the left and right of the pavement seemed inviting, deep and soft. He left the road, laid down involuntarily and was fast asleep. It was a sacred feeling - safe. Now in the daylight he must appear insane rising from the ground a few feet from the highway as if dumped from a truck.
There is no one to see. His mouth is dry and tastes foul. The voices begin their work day, and he starts walking.
He usually wakes exhausted like he's defended himself through an all-night assault. Such is his state upon waking this morning in the pre-dawn on the baked-hard dirt of the roadside. His clothes are damp, and he is shivering. As he becomes aware of himself, the harsh night voices and the context they are speaking from fade into oblivion. He opens his eyes.
At first he cannot comprehend what he sees. He is looking into brown eyes, curious and surprised. Then he registers a coyote with its nose not an inch from his, ears back, tentative. The man's eyes widen involuntarily and the spell is broken. Without sound the coyote disappears into the high dry grass.
The man struggles to his feet. He cannot be sure of the reality of the situation. The top of the sun has broken the horizon. He is five feet from a deserted, two-lane paved road. The context has shifted again. Last night in the darkness the black land to the left and right of the pavement seemed inviting, deep and soft. He left the road, laid down involuntarily and was fast asleep. It was a sacred feeling - safe. Now in the daylight he must appear insane rising from the ground a few feet from the highway as if dumped from a truck.
There is no one to see. His mouth is dry and tastes foul. The voices begin their work day, and he starts walking.
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