Aimless
Michael Kulp In the mid-1980’s I did time in a trailer with a Vietnam vet. He was in town for a week between distant construction jobs. His pregnant girlfriend, Sarah, shared the trailer with my future ex. He was a caricature of someone giving the finger to society: long hair, beard, rumpled. He smoked a lot of weed, and told me he had kicked the heroin habit he picked up in The Nam. “But if someone offered me some right now, I don’t know if I could turn it down.” He had scars on his wrists. Were they from needles or a razor blade that hadn’t gone quite deep enough one night? On a warm afternoon, he left for another short-term job 500 miles away, somewhere up north. He carried a few belongings in a black garbage bag. He was going to send some money back, but it would be a while. Sarah, eyes puffy and back aching, nodded silently. We stood on the rickety porch, watching him amble down to the highway. He stopped on the gravel shoulder and stuck out his thumb. After ten minutes, he started walking. But he was headed south. Sometimes maybe it just doesn’t matter. |
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About the Author:
Michael "Mickey" Kulp is the father of two mostly grown children who have successfully survived his shenanigans through smarts they inherited from their mother. Mickey is an Eagle Scout, writer, and passionate outdoorsman who collects tattoos, indulges in fine Viking mead, and enjoys long walks on the beach.
You can see his latest antics here.
Michael "Mickey" Kulp is the father of two mostly grown children who have successfully survived his shenanigans through smarts they inherited from their mother. Mickey is an Eagle Scout, writer, and passionate outdoorsman who collects tattoos, indulges in fine Viking mead, and enjoys long walks on the beach.
You can see his latest antics here.
