Finally in Omaha. It smells fine. Anything you’d find back home you’d find in Omaha. A Ford Explorer firetruck and a cul-de-sac basement had a birdbath at night.
Hungry from a rental wooden pier. Gorgeously passing out a hasty meal of fish. My bloods were in the palm trees, billboards, Rodeo Drive to Santa Monica.
Mountains and seas. Mountains from seas. Fish. Seasickness the following night. Dismounting a mold boat in 48 hours. Gliding on glass among the living.
Windows of the airport black. Fog due Friday. Currency exchange from kind man.
Dar es Salaam
Road paved with holes. Road’s shoulders dirt. Pickup trucks parked in the median. Women with packs of children down the median. A pool of water spreads ahead. Both lanes stop cars. Steering driver through the water held his breath, hit the gas. Water splashed sedan. Dry road again. Through it. The waitings start to follow suit.