Adam Fieled (editor, Plymouth Meeting, Pennsylvania): "Harrisburg"
No, it couldn’t be you’re here for no reason—
it couldn’t. Blistering sunlight singed the bus
terminal, my cheap luggage. She paced in front of
me, paced back, proving some abstruse point.
I’d always noticed, the pronounced large squareness
of her forehead, giving her a thoughtful look. Then,
the cascade of black waves, thicker than average
neck, medium build, tall. Strapping, even. Harrisburg
glowed with swampy summer. She, from my childhood,
& considering my reprobate status in what was still her
place, a wealthy one, in chastising guise. I wondered,
as always: why? What did I do, or have done? What does
Cheltenham want from me? I’m out, you fucking asshole,
& that’s it. Thoughts in succession, out again—
"as if, Adam; as if I had any idea how to handle you, or us, or what Cheltenham had turned into by then. You: always special, always different, always such a fierce disruption against our lives. Remember— I never liked you much anyway. There's no room for special people where I come from. What's special is the order of who gets placed where when, & why. So, as I followed you out that stupid door, it's with no special anything. Philosophy? Where I come from, its this: where you come from is who you are, whether you like it or not. You were lower than us, lower, & still are, you little shit— & that luggage you had was pretty cheap, wasn't it?"
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