Mojave River Review - Summer 2014

Page 181

Wendy Carlisle / The Lone Ranger There was less to know before that so we applied ourselves to the Lone Ranger and E=MC squared while the world arranged its corners around us, no less large or messy but with mid-century boundaries, the “beyond this place be dragons” of Medieval maps. We were used to duck and cover, 27 cent gas, we knew there were still rules, etiquette as explained by Emily Post, still nocross lines and although we flirted with be-bop and rockabilly, we were comfortable until the scrim burned away at Detroit and Mobile and in Los Angeles, RCA color TV’s displaying Lawrence Welk in his blue tux were pulled from flaming store fronts and we traded coziness for the excitement of appetite and tribal custom in regards the use of pipe and spoon. The tragedy of mismatched purse and shoes was gone, erased by Tet, and was it any wonder we threw down our clothes and marched off upstate trampling the August grasses on our way?

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