the boy in the desert

Our beaten up Volvo was a sizzling tin can at the mercy of the scorched Yellowstone national park, my skin had darkened and my hair was singed as my entirety was got lost within the beige landscape. The long since lakes of Albany (WY) had cooled and dried within our memories and the thick air had made us drunk with heat. My companion, Daisy, who's fingers I feared had melted into the steering wheel had been sailing us down the roads of the mighty Yellowstone national park for what felt like a whole month since we left Colorado. America took me in its mighty fingers and I was fascinated.

The gas station was like a beacon reminding us of civilization, even in our car the sheer expanse of land can test your sanity. Daisy swerved the Volvo into the gas station entrance, the bewildering stack of glinting trucks and old western scenery had starting to become accustomed to us and we were no longer cooing at all its American glory. Even the mammoth freight trains which once captivated me were now engraved in our minds like great steel snakes.

Daisy's agenda was always filling up our weary car while I braved the station, I looked at her, I smiled, we were so brave.

This station was different, it was shadowy and dark and smelt like mildew despite the punishable heat. There was a small boy perched on the verandah, he was wiry with a pinched face and red shorts, 'hello' I sat down beside him, he was quiet and then he asked 'have you come from the sky', I laughed 'no the road brought us here' He was quiet, wincing at Daisy on the forecourt, 'Pa said the roads go into the sky'

I paused for a second, his eyes were so blue with flecks of gold. I closed my eyes and inhaled a dusty warm breath, I took my token Oklahoma badge from my pocket and gave it to him. I scanned the beautiful dust bowl horizon and felt like crying.

Returning to the car the seat felt so hot and solid, we left as quickly as we had came, flying down the highway, the mountains soon engulfing the station out of sight. Sinking down into the seat I felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude and clarity. I always picture him rooted to the verandah in his red shorts, his young golden eyes watching for 'visitors from the sky.'