Established Marvel : a Monk by Abbreviation

195. SOMEONE'S FORGOTTEN JACKET AT THE OLD FARM SHED JUNKHEAP - (the view from here, Bradford County, PA):

I am walking the old dirt road which runs along and parallel now to the paved county road nearby it - over hill and hillock and valley below alongside the small tumbling river and the two streams which roll into it and I am meeting in my fate the very essence of the life and the place I live (as if this was now and not long ago) and as I stumble upon a patch of dirt I see the high blue sky and the old broken fence where it falls away to nothing and I step onto the old gravel of the lot left here right next to what remains of the old farm shed I can remember so well some 40 years ago and at that moment - excelsior wind great white light - something - the very place seems to stop all things and all time and sever all the connections we know of and I swear I hear the very spot talking itself to me like this : 'I have come through misery okay as if it was in fact a frank privilege a submission to be subdued and along the way I've seen many things - the delicious smokes of roadside odors and the smells of foodside stalls alongside the piled up heaps of jumbled metal making up cars and trucks and trucks and cars running at idle turned off or abandoned and the weakened doors of the old garages leaning with the forgotten vehicles in the weeds next to them showing season after season of growth and moss and fallen leaves and decay outlined on the aging paint they carry and the drain and the wash old pipes and broken gutters or the piled up leavings of old lumber now bent and distorted and blackened from weather and age - the two-wheeled bicycle broken and without chain or pedals and thrown as it was left on some equally leaning fence in the grass the piles of old metals and wire-rolls mixed with grass and branches cut from some summer lawn the piped smokes of exhausts and heat the stained marks of cooling fans and air conditioners as they drip and drop the condensation of water and air of 90-degree days and the way old things turn into layers of rust someone's forgotten jacket someone's old gloves someone's left-about paint cans and mixing sticks and brushes deadly and stiff with age - an old car windshield with a 12-year old sticker with water marks left greening in the grass and fragments of old hose dry and rotted with a nozzle rusted into a solid action but flowing nothing the wheel rim the vanity mirror broken and chipped the metal car door leaning on an angle propped on the old swing-set steel bars a pitchfork a shovel a wrench a lantern a can of rusted nails the old window from some old garage with oil-stickers and gasoline price markings still stuck onto it the glass cracked and broken an ancient cash register now one solid heap of brown with its cash-drawer stuck open and empty and empty and open - white wood curling and dead and needing more paint the shredded and torn screening and the old roll of mesh nearby it - all that way now for some thirty summers and so dried out the uneven wind goes about shredding it even more.'