Choir Trip, Washington DC, 1992
We are lost. Three college girls with tired legs. We are lost. There is more than one mall in the city and there is no more grass to tread. We are lost. The van did not come. A woman with shit dried to her pants asks us for money we don’t have to give. The van did not come. A guy with a part down the middle stops his car and flashes a wad of cash through his window. The van did not come. It is getting dark and the man on a park bench bends back his neck as a teen girl’s head hovers and pulses rhythmically. It is getting dark. We go into a building marked Technology Solutions. The van did not come. A security guard is kind and lets us sit down. It is dark and the police are called. The van did not come and we are lost for five hours. We sit on the lobby floor as our quadriceps shake and we split the security guard’s lunch. She has a kind face, it is so dark. Red and blue lights flicker. A woman with two teeth asks the cop for a light. The flame glows in the dark. We are lost and calm now. The guard makes us laugh, tells us to hide fish in the van. The officer talks to dispatch and garbled voices say that we are not lost, the van is coming. You are not lost when people know to look for you. We will sing tomorrow. Dawn cracks the dark.
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