Page 129

By Jack Joseph Smith

the night veil of sorrow. I would look out the windows of the speeding car and see sorrow walking on the mist between the twisted trees. One hundred and twenty miles an hour over the winding black roads with a bottle of in your hand and your voice high with the wind. Buggsy was his name. Tall and lankie, with glasses hanging over his nose. Curly black hair combed streight back, so you could see the veins in his forehead move with the flashing of his eyes. Ghost Riders in the Sky, we're riding high IN the BUCK CENTURY. The lights, a beamed gray. The branches of the trees seemed to be falling behind us, closing out the world to our destiny of flight. Anouther boy would howl like the name, and in his terrorified panting, his hands would reach out in desper ation. Please slow this fucking thing down he would screem, as he tryed to turn off the engine or pull Buggsy's foot from the gas peddle. You see Daniel, there it all was. Insanity. I was a snake on the tip of a dagger, ready to be thrown. The dagger was held high Daniel. High over the line of the world. The spirits were haunting. There was hunger and death and pain and excitement coming through those trees. I spit fire as we raced through those living in the small sense. But they were the ones who came into the taverns we went to. Ha ha, I found we were all one in the same; earth men dressed in red. No matter how high you tried to go? I was the purple genie dancing beneath the moon. No doubt about it Daniel. I saw lives change with each turn in the road. I saw meaning disappear and reappear in an instant. Isaw joy sing and despair rip away at the cords of the mind. I wonder what's on the other side of that bend? At one hundred and twenty miles an hour, let's hope nothing. Ha ha, but we're, Ghost Riders in the Sky. The boy Wolf would cry an anquished howl sometimes bellowing on his buckled knees, but he would be back each time a trip was planned. Why? Because inside he really wanted to be a Wolf. He wanted to go beyond

Original Scan

Page 129

AI Interpretation

GPT

The narrator recalls riding with Buggsy at one hundred and twenty miles an hour while another boy begs him to slow down. He associates the speed with Ghost Riders in the Sky and a desire to go beyond ordinary fear.

The narrator calls himself a snake on a dagger and a purple genie, turning the ride into an account of power and danger. Wolf returns for another trip despite his terror, and the narrator recognizes his own appetite for escape in that choice.

Claude

Michael remembers racing at 'One hundred and twenty miles an hour' on winding black roads with Buggsy, 'Tall and lankie', who sang Ghost Riders in the Sky in his red and white car while a terrified boy begged 'Please slow this fucking thing down'; Michael says he was 'a snake on the tip of a dagger, ready to be thrown' and 'the purple genie dancing beneath the moon', and that the boy Wolf came back for every trip because 'inside he really wanted to be a Wolf'.

Speed becomes a kind of worship here, with sorrow 'walking on the mist between the twisted trees' and meaning disappearing and reappearing 'in an instant'. The page romanticizes the rush while quietly recording its casualties, and the joke 'let's hope nothing' shows how close the bravado sits to a death wish.