414:65) Berg Man of Alcatraz
Date: 28-NOV-93  23:40

 I'm sitting cross-legged on the patio reading "The Scarlet Moving Van" and
 smoking a cigarette.  The wind is fierce up here--I cup the cigarette in
 my right hand and try vainly to hold down the flapping pages with my left.
 It's cold.  My baseball cap is pressed on and my collar is up.  There's a
 shot in the distance.  It's deer season.  Another shot.  I look up.  A
 third and a fourth.  I want to see the hunters, but of course I can't.
 They are hidden in the woods.  Then I notice the bright orange sun above the
 hills.  I rush to finish the story.  I put the book down and watch as the
 sun sets.  It's nice, but I was expecting so much more.  My hands are numb
 and my ride home is late.  I don't feel like reading any more.


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