Heading To Virginia

Last Thursday I headed south to Virginia.

I was marrying Paige and Stephen.

In Richmond.

The bus ran at 70 through New Jersey.

It was a boring ride.

I hate Bruce.


I hate the Jersey Shore.

I fell asleep.

I woke up at the Delaware River.

I went back to sleep on the southern bank.

I-95 existed for ten miles in Delaware.

I skipped the rest stop.

The shitty pizza was $6.99

The bus crossed a bridge spanning the Susquehanna, the longest river on the East Coast.

The Latter-Day Saints performed their first rituals in its waters.

According to family legend I was related to Joseph Smith.

I never saw the resemblance.

But he was a handsome man.

Others including Mormons disagreed.

We were both New England born, but now I was entering the south.


Home of Divine.

She was a slut.

We miss her so.

We passed the Salt Alps of Baltimore.

More sleep.

I rose from the dead in the South.

In Peterburg, VA.

In front of a rim shop.

I said nothing.

There was no one to say anything so close to midnight.

Only more rims.

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