Nomad

Frank is a nomadic dumpster diver. He’s frequently blitzed on meth and it shows. His eyes bulge and quiver. and his hands shake.  “Why do you do it ..?” I ask. One voice tells him it’s his reward for two tours of duty ..says it’s OK ..it’s just a phase (he was never around the stuff before). A second voice tells him he needs something to obliterate the first one when it starts sounding like bullshit. He tried taking courses at the city college but discussions in his political science class left him feeling conflicted between the patriotism he felt going in and the alienation he feels now. “Nobody gives a shit around here.” He’d leave campus pissed ..go back to his tent in a field near the airport and watch planes fly away ..imagining himself flying away someday too. Reminded me of a song that used to go through my head when I was on the road:

“This old airport’s got me down / it’s no earthly good to me / I’m stuck here on the ground, as cold and drunk as I can be / You can't jump a jet plane like you can a freight train / So I best be on my way in the early mornin’ rain.”