Daily walks

This was the sixth picture on the first roll of film I put into my first camera.

I walked two miles to school every morning, a habit I developed shortly after taking up smoking, which could not be done leisurely on a bus. I took the tracks and never worried about getting hit by a train. Back then you could feel them coming a mile away. Nowadays out here people think they're all glory trains.

Jeff began walking with me later, which I enjoyed at first, but less as time went on. He was too punctual. He watched me drink instant breakfast. I finally told him to bug off and didn't see him again until 15 years later. It was in a crowded yippie bar. I was strutting around in a trenchcoat, he was on a barstool and wouldn't shake my hand. The conversation quickly turned to me, what I did, where I lived, who I married, what I drove. And him?

"I'm an alcoholic. I've got testicular cancer. They took one of my balls a month ago. I'm killing myself with this." He held up a glass of Scotch, his father's drink. He threw it back and chased it with beer, also his father's drink. He died later that year.

He said something to me. It was after I dressed him down for hurting himself and after my heartfelt advice that he find a good woman and marry her. He said, "Women don't stay with me. Friends don't stay with me. God didn't either."