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The Hitchhiker

The Hitchhikers

On the wing of a fly the moon is born as giant reptiles roam and we circle around the sun.

Then off to the sink faucet as a nearby mother coos to a baby cradled on her chest.

A stop to listen to the other flies buzzing and teasing the horse ears, making them twitch, as they struggle to pull the wagons through the tall grass.

Then to the firelit cave where the beards of men hang low, as does the woman’s bare tits, all under the very watchful eye and ear of the healing man who listens for the approaching bear.

The fly lands randomly upon the fence-wire, and we ride along as a privileged traveler or a hitchhiker who has been graciously picked up by a God.

Words are spoken, echoing just behind the buzzing wings, “where and when you exist is not as important as why you exist.”

 

This is my journey,
Nate Long “Owl”

Ink with digital manipulation

 

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