I put on my No Future t-shirt and some black jeans and my flannel jacket. I didn't have the kids that day. I didn't have to work the next morning.

Time to drink in the woods.

I told my cat that it was time to drink in the woods. The cat didn't care. The cat didn't drink. The cat didn't like the woods. I dumped some extra cat food in his bowl. I told the cat to suck my ass. I told the cat I was just kidding, though.

Walked down to the 7-11. Bought a case of beer and a couple bottles of water and a sandwich wrapped in cellophane.

Jaywalked across the four-way intersection. Cracked a beer by the train tracks. Finished drinking it by the time I hit the tree line. Put the empty back in the case, to set a good example for whoever might be watching. Don't litter.

Fuck you if you litter.

Got to my good stump. Great view of the big rocky ridge to the west. Great view of the hillside with the highway on it to the north. Great view of a bunch of trash and shitty shrubs and stuff to the south. Just trees to the east.

And the sun, warm on my back. Nice.

I started a self-guided meditation podcast on my phone. Let it play out of the phone speaker in case the rabbits wanted in on it. Maybe they could benefit from it, too. Rabbits always look stressed the fuck out.

I closed my eyes and breathed deeply like the dude on the podcast said to do. He told me to dismiss all my stresses and worries one by one. I dismissed all my stresses and worries one by one.

I forgot about my shitty fucking job at the truck stop on 93.

I forgot about how hard it's been to sleep lately.

I forgot about having to find new car insurance.

I forgot about all the phone calls I had to make.

I forgot about all the broken shit in the house I had to fix or throw out.

I forgot about the shitty next-door neighbor who yells at his dad all day.

I forgot about my ex-wife who lives in another town.

I forgot about having to take the kids to karate and looking like a piece of shit chump in front of their perfect, healthy, handsome karate instructor.

I didn't forget about my kids, though, because I love them.

I was enjoying this meditation stuff.

The guy on the podcast told me it was ok to think about stuff. Meditation isn't about making your brain go blank, he said. I liked that.

I like thinking.

Even though sometimes it's horrible. I still like it.

Then the guy on the podcast told me to think about where I was. What I was doing.

I drank some more beer. Thought about it.

I was living in the present. The now. Sitting on the stump in the woods. Great view of the highway. And the trees. And the trash.

I was focused on my breathing. And my drinking. And the warm sun on my back. And the soft tree stump under my ass. And the sandwich wrapped in cellophane waiting for me.

I had no great expectations. No grand visions. No more daydreams about mansions and cars and stuff. Not gonna be a doctor. Not gonna invent anything. Not gonna be any big anybody.

Then the guy on the podcast told me to wriggle my toes.

I couldn't remember the last time I wriggled my toes.

I thought about my kids wriggling their toes.

They probably wriggle their toes a lot.

I wriggled my toes.

And it felt fucking great.


.

Zac Smith's 50 BARN POEMS is forthcoming from Clash Books. He's had work in X-R-A-Y, Hobart, Soft Cartel and others.

This story is a Finalist for the 2020 Mythic Picnic Prize in Fiction.

Detail of art on main page by Robert Rauschenberg: "Yellow Visor Glut" (1989).





W i g l e a f               10-20-19                                [home]