Pioneer (an oneiric read-along)

oneiric composition forty-one

	There’s no set destination, just a general direction still to go. Pass occasional city limits, sounding out town names under-breath, even though you’re alone. The whir of the interstate hums along. 

oneiric composition forty-one:

Exit, approaching empty at a pioneer-themed motel/truck plaza. Turn at a covered wagon replica displayed on bark landscaping. Park near a few sleeping semis.
 
Outside of the lobby entrance, a dry-erase a-frame sign reads Full Menu. Lounge. Video Poker. The next line once read Quiet Atmosphere, partially smudged at phere. 

A senior in a bandana neckerchief, receded to a hoary laurel wreath, sits on a walkway bench, a cane leaning on the armrest & a small dog curled below, smoking & talking to a squat build in short-sleeved coveralls who stands, looking off into the distance while listening.
 
They nod at you in unison as you go inside & find a place at the bar. 

	Grab a menu & flip the lacquered pages back & forth like there's something you must've missed. Look up & see yourself in the mirrored wall behind the bottles as Squat comes in & sits next to you. Bandana follows with the dog & sits next to a smirking man. 

A young bartender with a healed broken nose puts her cell in a back pocket & asks, "Who else needs a drink?"

While the others order, Squat says low, staring straight ahead, "Not many all-you-can-eats around here. They're all over the place south or east. Fish. Ribs. Chicken. Salad bar. Everything. Not around here, though."

You turn your head to him but he doesn't look back & you wonder if he was really talking to you. Beyond his profile, there's a sign on a wall, handwritten with Prime Rib Special & you put down the menu.

Squat says, still looking ahead, "You decide?"

Like him, you stare into the mirror with "Yeah. The special."

Squat says "Good choice. Probably safer."

A younger guy wearing a freight company shirt comes in & sits next to Smirk. Bandana welcomes him like it's been-a-while & the two begin talking about routes, weather, chains & speed limits, Bandana concluding "Ya gotta watch-it near Yreka." 

Smirk watches the bartender as she listens to your order. 

Squat turns to Bandana, "Hey, you remember that Roadrunner outside of Phoenix?"

Smirk breaks in, keeping his bartender-gaze, with "Not there anymore."

Bandana asks over to Squat "How about that Diesel Fried Chicken in Van Horn?"

Smirk again "Or the old Petro in El Paso,” then calls out to the bartender as she walks away "Hey, I'm gonna order something too, but just not right now."

Freight talks accidents & injuries to Bandana with "South of Redding. Bike went straight across the 5. Landed in the median. Woke up in the hospital. Wrist bones coming out. Gas tank broke my ribs. Almost bit off my tongue. Was there for weeks. After I got out, I could barely talk but told my ex-wife I thought it'd all been a dream. Those drugs kept me high for months. Lost fifty pounds. Just pills and beer. Things happen quick."

	The bartender sets down your platter. Smirk says "Look at that spread” & puts a hand to his chest & makes a beating-heart motion when she walks away.

Squat stands & says he's going out for a smoke. Bandana says he'll have one, too. Freight joins in, saying he needs to bum one. You & the dog rise to follow them out. 

Smirk stays seated &, looking over your fork-down half-empty plate next to some cash, calls over "You're not gonna eat it all?"

Bandana sits back on the bench, pulls out a pouch of roll-your-own & pinches out a filled paper. He licks & wraps then offers the bag. When Freight reaches for it, he shows Bandana the scars on his wrist. Bandana lifts one of his pant cuffs to show an ankle with a baseball-sized mass protruding, pointing & saying he'd had part of his back muscle taken out & moved to the ankle, but doesn't mention why. "I used to have another body" he says, "but things change." 

The dog comes closer & puts its nose to Bandana's ankle, licks & wags.

Freight spins around like he's heard a familiar voice, looks across the parking lot & says "Gotta go. My trailer's here,” thanks Bandana for the smoke, then walks off with a limp. 

Squat says "I might grab that prime rib." & goes back in. 

You & Bandana remain as he rolls another, confessing other maladies: his prostate, a bad hip, & "a gal I sometimes know,” beginning with "I shouldn't talk about this, but I've had a few drinks…"

The stories end when his ember goes out. At the lull, go back inside. Bandana stays, sitting, looking down & petting the dog lying near his feet. 

Inside, your leftovers sit boxed & sacked next to the bill & change on the bar. The bartender looks up from her cell as you enter, then back down at the phone, smiling. Squat & Smirk are seated next to each other, playing video poker across the room. It's quiet now except for the games, ring-chirping.
 
	Walk out. Another semi parks. Two figures get out & nod to you as they walk inside. You nod back & look behind. The bench is empty & the cane & dog are gone. 

While walking away, recall the unintentional warnings, friendly at most — lips moving silently, inventing missed responses, just swinging your to-go.

Return of Raagini