volume one IN THE D U D L E Y C L A R K - Ohio Vine Tours

notice what everyone else on the sidewalk stops to gawk at—a
crimson fire engine grunting up the hill, driver leaning on its
horn, dome lights spinning, chuffing particles of grit and clouds
of diesel fumes.
He joins a group of pedestrians waiting at the corner. As
if sunflowers in fast forward, their bobbing heads follow the
flashing lights.
The electric sign across from them utilizes a complicated
algorithm programmed into it long ago by Mr. Jack D. Mueller
of Fargo, North Dakota, and determines it is safe for humans to
cross.
The sign changes from red to white.
Roy’s earphoned baldness floats high above the crossing
crowd.
Mid-way through the intersection he stops to twiddle with his
player. Those who shuffle along behind—their minds slipped
into the city dweller’s theta state—glower at this big, apparently
retarded man who blocks their passage and requires their sudden
reengagement with the world. Fuming, they hurry around him
like water around a snare.
Roy, oblivious, cranks up his tunes.
Wildcat Kelly
Looking mighty pale
Was standing by the sheriff’s side
And when the sheriff said,
“I’m sending you to jail,”
Wildcat raised his head and cried—
Oh give me land, lots of land under starry skies above
Don’t fence me in
Let me ride through the
Wide
Open country that I love
Don’t fence me in
Let me be by myself in the evening breeze
Listen to the murmur of the cottonwood trees
Send me off forever
ROY ROGERS IN THE 21ST CENTURY 1