A NIGHT IN SALT LAKE CITY (short story)

i was stranded that day,
although it would nothave been too much of a stretch to say i had been stranded for months. i followed a woman to provo utah,where i was the obvious forigner;i became engaged to her only to find out she had been fucking one of the 3 or so friends that i had made there.

so i moved out,
still looking for a job,the bulk of the work there being marketing,telephone and typing jobs.being from arural area, i was most comfortable with work i could accomplish with the strength of my back, not my voice. i had moved out, first sleeping on the streets,but it was august in utah,i didnt ever feel cold or anything;i just found an area not in public view and passed out, using my backpack as a pillow. i hooked up with labor-ready soon after,doing menial labor construction labor, and getting paid for it at the end of the day.

i befriended a co-worker,named jacob, who was a christian from st.louis,which normally would have unnerved me, but i had been spending all this time around mormons i was tolerant of jesus people,simply for reasons of fatigue.jacob often let me sleepin the back of his car since we both had the same common goal,which was going to labor ready the next day.

but somenights,i just chose to be alone,thinking of my idiocy,how i could have let myself fall into such a trap,although i knew it was because i fell heart-first. and on these nights,i would wander the streets of provo,looking at the emptiness of the area,seemingly,everyone tucked themselves into bed at nine pm,a very scary concept for me,thankfully, i had saved up enough money for a bus ticket back to portland,with a friends place where i could couch surf.i was staying here a few day more to earn extra money.

one early morning,i head to work to find jacob not there, but there many people all headed to a site,well out of town,so i get a ride with them in their van,travelling a good 90minutes or so.i hadnt packed anyfood or water,and by the time i got on the roof of this one project,i knew i was getting sunstroke.i climbed down,telling the forman i couldnt do the jobi walk down a mile or soto a shell station for something to eat and drink,sitting in the shade iplanned to head up in a while to catch a ride back to provo.when i returned to the worksite,i found the van and the workers gone,"goddammit,"i thought to myself and i sat at the shell station trying to think of how to get back untill a cop came by asking what i was doing there,i explain and im suprised to hear him recommend that i try and catch a ride,saying it would be eaier to get a ride to salt lake than it would provo.

so i ask this guy with purple hair,"sure,thing,dude," he replies.
he was a half punk rock half wigger type named dan, i got in the car and realised the skies seemed to be darkening with cloudcover quickly, dan has music playing, its D.M.X., cant understand most of the words except for "motherfucker". so i just sat there saying motherfucker in time with the music, dan says to me,"finally,someone ele who knows the words to this".

dan,the punk rock wigger drops me off on the outskirts of slc, tells me he thinks the greyhound terminal is thattaway,pointing straight into a building.then he speeds away,and i look in a phone book to get the greyhound adress,then wonder around trying to get a sense of direction,its dark by the time i understand the flow of the streets. i pass by a car wreck,dont see anyone setting or staning be side the cars,even the police seem a distance away. then i go into a bookstore,notice favorite authors of mine are nowhere to be found,no burroughs,no pat califia,no poppy z brite,making me miss powells city of books in portland, how they seem to have entire sections that could be labled "too fucked up for utah".i saw a sign in the store, it said poetry slam,1st monday of the month,and it mde me miss portland open mic, where the term for slam poets was "no-talent-cocksuckers". i drited from the bookstore.walked out, feeling so home sick,i didnt know if i could even breathe this air. i saw a discarded half-pack of cigarettes on the ground, i pick them u,sove them into my pocket for whatever reason,probably because i am always bugged for smokes in portland.

i come upon a woman standing on a streetcorner, by a streetlamp,it became obvious to me that this woman was a prostitute.shit,a hooker in salt lake,and i thought i was asore thumb."got a cigarette,baby?" she asks,i give her the pack saying consider them yours.then she asked me if i was looking for a good time,and i told her i was just looking for the greyhound station. she walked me there, saying its the least she cold do for the cigarettes,then she asked me why i was here,where i was from,i told her but i found myself directing my anseres less at her and more at the fishnets she was wearing and the leather skirt that stopped half-way down her ass.

we arrive at the bus terminal,"this is it,take care, baby,"she said as she went on her way, probably back to her corner.when i opened the door, a receptionist was saying they just closed,telling me to come back in the morning.i asked him what he though a ticket back to provo would cost, he said perhaps 15 bucks,but it would be smarter to just take the public transportation bus back to there,it would cost about 1.50,so i sleep in an alley that night,take the bus to provo.i decided i should celebrate, after all,i leave for portland the next day. what would bring me joy?i could take a nap,or i could burn my ex's house down.either one i think i would enjoy right now.
i didnt find any matches to go with the cigarettes earlier,so i just took a nap.