options

I dream of Bosler when I close my eyes:

On the drive up to Newcastle via Esterbrook, I passed through Bosler, the near-ghost-town just 20 miles north of Laramie. I forget how melancholy the place is, with its boarded-up brick schoolhouse and warped-board-faced buildings along the highway and the sense of being long ago forgotten but somehow not quite dead. Jalan Crossland's song about the town seems mean-spirited for managing to catch so well the dark humor of a dying place:

I picture you holding your Harlequin novel
Gettin’ baked like a pot pie in the afternoon sun
While I fix the fan belt that goes to the engine
Of the ’69 Pinto that don’t ever run

And I dream of a trailer in Bosler, Wyoming

With tires on the roof, dear, and you by my side
And we could watch Flintstones and draw unemployment
As I dream of Bosler when I close my eyes

(photo from wyomingtourism.org)