Captain Wishenheimer


That somehow, in your gut, you are convinced that, regardless of the fact that you’re surrounded by hot dog buns and barbecue sauce and corn and red white and blue tablecloths and weird small flags waved by drunk people, that you know you have your path.  Even if you can’t get your bearings perfectly clear and right just now and your dreams are floating, wild, beyond your graspy hands—you know for certain that you are on your way, accompanied by lush, wise well wishers telling you what you already know.


One Comment on "Captain Wishenheimer"

  1. PJ says:

    Uh-huh. That’s right, baby.