Noah Cicero - The Collected Works of Noah Cicero Vol. II

He gets smaller and smaller as he walks.

The hugeness of the field engulfs him and slowly he recedes in the distance.

He is alone now.

But he is strong.

I cry a few tears.

I don’t know if I’ll ever see him again.

Chang is gone now.

Where will he go, what will he do?

Oh, it doesn’t matter.

He’ll be all right.

The wind blows at the Rocky Mountains National Park.

I’m up high.

My ears keep popping.

Barely anyone is at the park.

The mountains are huge.

I’m smiling.

I’m really smiling.

I drive around the park, amazed.

Going crazy with love for this world.

I’m alone.

Chang is gone.

But I’m okay.

I drive around the park, aimlessly staring at the tall cliffs and bull elk that walk around peacefully in the pastures.

There is a light snow that covers the ground.

It is beautiful.

I can’t believe that something so beautiful could be on the same planet with the shitty humans.

I find a place to camp.

I get out of the car.

A cold wind blows hard.

There is only one other group of campers.

A group of men spending the night in a Winnebago.

I view them as cheaters.

Real men sleep in tents.

I set the tent.

It is almost impossible with the wind blowing so hard.

The tent pegs won’t stay.

It keeps pissing me off.

I look around and see mule deer walk slowly past.

They don’t run like the deer back home.

Don’t have a camera so I can’t take pictures.

Have no camera or clock or cellphone. I’m free.

I stare at the mule deer for a while and continue trying to set up the tent.

I can’t get the pegs in and the tent keeps getting tossed about by the wind.

I find large rocks and hold the tent down with them.

The tent kind of stays put, it will be good enough. When I get in it tonight, my weight will hold it down.

I get back in the car and drive around.

I don’t know where I’m going.

Just driving.

It is all so beautiful.

It smells so good.

The wind so fresh.

Everything is so nice.

I’m amazed.

I’m happy.

I’m alive.

I’m actually happy to be alive.

This is such a strange and awkward feeling.

I don’t feel tense or nervous or in a frenzy of emotion.

I don’t know what to do with myself.

It is so unnatural.

I park the car and walk down a trail.

No one is around.

It’s late May and barely anyone is at the park.

It is so nice.

I walk down a trail.

And eventually get to an open field.

Bull elk are standing around doing nothing.

I sit on a rock.

I can barely think, I’m so happy.

The bull elk do nothing.

They stand there.

They don’t care about me, but I care about them.

I love them.

They are free out here.

This is their park.

I want to go up and pet them.

But they will probably kick me or bite me.

So I sit on a rock and watch them.

It starts to snow.

I head back to the car after an hour of doing nothing but watching bull elk.

I realize I’m hungry and drive out of the park.

There’s a restaurant outside the park.

I go inside.

There are three people standing around talking.

They are wearing uniforms.

I’m the only person there.

A server leads me to a window seat and hands me a menu.

The menu has a bunch of expensive shit on it.

I order something cheap.

I stare out the window and watch the snow falling harder.

It looks like a blizzard.

But I know it isn’t winter anymore and that the real Rocky Mountain blizzards have ended.

The server comes back and gives me my food.

I must look like a madman to her.

I’m unshaved, my hair a mess, I smell from sweating in Nebraska all day, and I’m wearing a ten-year-old camouflage hunter’s coat.

I look pretty much homeless.

But I’m homeless in the Rocky Mountains.

I finish my food and drive back into the park.

I have to stop the car because some bighorn sheep are crossing the road.

Which is so cool.

I’ve never seen bighorn sheep.

They are so cool-looking.

They look like they could destroy my car with those horns.

Eventually the bighorn sheep cross the road and I get back to camp.

The tent is almost knocked over.

I fix it up and throw more rocks down and it’s somewhat sturdy again.

It is night now.

The snow is falling hard.

Mule deer walk around the tent.

The middle-aged men with the Winnebago are sitting around a fire, drinking beer.

If I get attacked by a mountain lion, I can call on them for help.

I get into the tent and slip into my sleeping bag.

It is cold.

Almost freezing.

The snow is falling outside.

Wind smacking into the tent.

It is wild.

I feel really alive like this.

I don’t know why.

It makes me happy.

All this nature.

All this life.

These animals walking around.

The giant mountains.

The huge sky.

It is crazy.

I’ve never experienced anything like this.

Being totally alone.

No one even knows I’m here.

I told Sasha that I was leaving but not where.

I didn’t even tell Chang this is where I planned on going.

No one knows I’m here.

I’m a person without a name.

Without a home.

Without a past.

No one here cares who I am.

What class or what country I originated from.

What government I prefer.

The bull elk and bighorn sheep do not ask such questions.

They don’t care.

The wind does not judge me and I have no reason to judge the wind.

Free at last.

At last, I need no escape.

I feel good now.

I’m cold but I feel okay.

Like not killing myself wasn’t a bad idea after all.

Lying here in these mountains.

Makes me think if there are other things.

I’m missing.

Maybe I can live?

I don’t know.

But I feel better.

Rejuvenated.

I have to pee before I fall completely asleep.

I go outside.

And unzip behind my tent.

A mountain lion walks out of the forest.

He walks no less than ten feet from me.

I don’t move.

A fear rushes up in me.

But I attack the fear at once and calm my heart.

The mountain lion stops for a second and looks at me.

I can see its glowing eyes.

It is beautiful.

This enlarged version of the household cat that could kill me without much effort at all.

The mountain lion looks at me.

And goes on its way.

I finish peeing and go to sleep.

I’m sitting at a lake in Northern California.

The trees are burnt all around me.

Everywhere I look is burnt trees.

Soon the fires will start again.

Soon summer will start and fires will blaze.

And more trees and more houses and more people will be burnt alive.

The lake is blue and beautiful.

If I had a boat I would go on it.

And sail around.

Maybe cast a line in the blueness.

But I’m sitting here.

Soon I will be at Jessica Benway’s house.

Who is Jessica Benway?

An old lover.

An old friend.

She has a kid now.

She was married.

Jessica is no longer married.

She wrote me an email inviting me to stay with her.

I’m about two hours from her house.

I don’t know if I want to go there.

It probably won’t make me happy.

She doesn’t seem very happy.

Why would I want to visit an unhappy friend.

But this is the trip, for better or worse.

This is the west.