by Alex Rost
Ash mists the air and charred trees stand naked and some lean and some are cracked and some have fallen all the way to the ground.
People used to call this valley beautiful and now they say it is still pretty and it is still pretty because death is scenic.
He didn’t see the fire. He drives this stretch of road and leads lines of cars from one side to the other and he has to drive very slowly and he thinks about the fire and the amount of fire it takes to strike fear into water. He thinks that when the valley was on fire it was the most beautiful the valley had ever been.
The wind is slight yet steady and flicks ash into his his mouth and he swallows it and doesn't roll his window up and sun glints off black bark and the fire is dead and the hills are dead and everything in the stream is dead but someday it will all be alive again.
He drives back and forth and sometimes he has to wait and when he has to wait on the north end of the stretch of road he stays in his truck because Gary is at the north end of the stretch of road and Gary always talks about politics and he talks about politics in a way that presumes everyone agrees with him.
Vicky is at the south end of the stretch of road and when he has to wait at the south end of the stretch of road he parks his truck and gets out and talks to Vicky. He thinks Vicky is beautiful and can’t stop thinking about touching Vicky even though Vicky is married. He wants to tell Vicky that she is beautiful and that she is more beautiful than the fire that engulfed the valley and that when the fire engulfed the valley it was the most beautiful the valley had ever been and she is more beautiful even than that.
But usually he is driving. A lot of cars drive through the valley and he has to drive very slowly and the stretch of road is several miles and cars and are often backed up further than he can see. He wonders if the people in the cars think about the beauty of the valley. He wonders if it makes them sad or if they can see that life is just a tiny speck stacked on death and that death is stacked on more death and that death is stacked on yet more death and that life is only allowed because of death which makes death a kind of life and that everything is different and everything will always be different and everything will always be beautiful.
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