Voices on the Wind Memorable Voices
Saturday’s Savior by David Chorlton Carrying a cold and lonely cross along Grand Avenue from the automobile dealerships to the clubs for so-called gentlemen a man who wears a crumpled orange shirt and jeans with a white scarf wrapped around his face in a vaguely late medieval manner looks at the ground as he follows his ideals past The Great Alaskan Bush Company with the angle resting on his right shoulder and the long beam dragging behind his off-white sneakers. The pavement is a vacancy all the way while on the railroad side a freight train waits for the signal to move. Not yet noon, it is early for redemption though the ground would seem to be fertile, considering the comments customers make about moving along for a night of debauchery, although a Wednesday might be better, when drinks are half-price and the locomotive’s horn crying out in the darkness seems to speak for the many who are lost.