Wednesday, June 10, 2009

grandfather paradox

Can you tell me how to get there?

I followed the directions of the gas station attendant,

turned left at the road just past the third house after the second stoplight,

turned right at the tree struck by lightening in the freak July hailstorm of ’83,

right again at what must have been the old Cooperston family farm, or I assumed it was once a farm due to the presence of chicken wire and I presumed it was the old farm because the roof had collapsed over part of the barn and the house was boarded up and a not-quite-vintage tractor was quietly rusting behind what may have once been a woodshed,

then I took the left turn by the water tower and followed the road past the railroad tracks towards the old swimming hole in what used to be an abandoned mine shaft,

took a sharp right when a branch of the road passed the 1953 Buick parked in front of the old school teacher’s residence,

followed the road past the Grange and the Congregational Church which is now the deconsecrated home of a town selectman and his family of incontrollable boys, one of whom is rumored to have left a cow on top of the general store,

kept to the left of the road around the hillside hugging the meadowland that is said to be for sale to a soda bottling facility, threatening to drain the local wells and pollute the rivers,

turned at the second right after the post office but before reaching the home of the brother of the wife of the cousin of the gas station attendant,

continued straight for a few ups and downs of hills,

crossed the river,

Margaret Atwood, the exquisite Good Bones
this is June?