SUN BEAMS:..."The Old Lonesome"...

 

By DUARDO PAZ-MARTINEZ

BERNALILLO, New Mexico |...There had to be an eleven-volume instruction book hidden somewhere, was his feeling. Yeah, maybe it was buried deep alongside a pyramid over in Egypt, that book that would have spelled-out the best manner of living.

Patrick was just thinking as his truck rolled up the road, bound for nowhere, as Kenny Rogers might have said.

Still, he also knew he'd tried a variety of ways to go from one day to the next, from one year to the other. That road, he'd have said, had thrown a load of obstacles his way, some he had navigated neatly, others he'd made a bigger mess out of, like most single men.

So, yeah, perhaps there was a book out there. He, of course, loved his New Mexico skies, those that came in all gold and red and blue.

You could enjoy life much, much more, he was saying to himself, smiling as he thought about it, if you'd concentrate on the planet and not solely the people. People would let you down sooner or later; the planet would, for the most part, always be there for you, dredging and pollution aside.

He was sure all who knew him understood why he said and did what he said and did, at least he chose to think so.

There had been no radio out this way, towns being several hundred of miles apart. Patrick had, as happens, tired of his CDs. That, he went on, may be the story of my life.

He reached for his CD pouch and pulled one out with one hand while holding on to the steering wheel with the other one. Familiar stuff. Rolling Stones and their ya-yas, or something like that.

Patrick laughed aloud. You could even almost feel the scratchings on the damned thing...

-30-