3/24/18
Pulling into Wenatchee on a Friday night just before dark. The Olive Garden family restaurant, a long time since I’d been to one and longer still before I’ll go back. Charlotte, slap happy / punch drunk on two Cokes, then back at the hotel with the roll-away cot quibbling, arguing, fighting, going to bed mad, waking up to hotel lobby coffee and non-dairy creamer, the distant hills of Wenatchee covered in clouds, snow squalls, still winter on the eastern side of the state. Passing through the Swauk prairie I said look, girls–buffalo! And right after, a sign posted Buffalo Meat For Sale, the cycle of life Dawn says, a reminder, we’re all buffalo meat. Telling my client I’ve got a new job, her saying she still wants us to work together in the future…felt so good I almost offered her a hug, but thought better of it. Driving home happy, going to Wenatchee for a night.
Bill Pearse 
yay! (except for the poor buffalo)
LikeLiked by 1 person
I know, it’s always the same: reduced to the face of coins or tobacco packaging.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Doesn’t sound quite so optimistic if you call it the cycle of death, does it?
LikeLiked by 1 person
Right…caught under the wheel of that (cycle) rather than riding atop of it eh? Good one Bruce!
LikeLiked by 1 person