where do we go from here?

Shmu told people for two years (maybe longer). He was like that guy in office space who keeps worrying he’s going to get fired. He would keep us posted on what was happening. Every new announcement meant we would have just that much more time at nowhere. Summer came and went etc. The people we met at nowhere, my mom all wanted to know where we would go when we couldn’t go to nowhere anymore.  “Probably the fourth st bridge ”

“You have to be loyal” my mom said.  Nowhere closed, barricades were put up, a disgruntled annoyed police officer was placed. It’s the day after and we’re standing awkwardly like jay and silent Bob forced to go somewhere else when they can’t stand outside of the quickstop when it is burned to the ground. We start moving henges around. Boylehenge our home for now.  It’s a weird desolate area now. See the bus stop has been closed, the bridge has no traffic on it, conveniently the dominoes pizza and 24 hour laundromat across the street burned down. In the end we knew it might come to this but we didn’t expect this amount of empty nothing.

The one only other time we formally hung out at the henge was when the bridge was closed off and we couldn’t get on…only this time it was because the bridge was full to capacity. We stood at the henge that day doing our usual reflection on life, random families and individuals unable to get onto the bridge pass us by and take photos or try to work up the courage to come talk to us.  It seems that it’s only when life threw them a roadblock that they took notice of this henge and this snowman who lives there. It’s a scene that is repeated when the metaphorical roadblock becomes a real one. A woman walks up to us “this is really cute”. We talk to her as we organize the henge and clean up. We watch families and couples who got the social media update that the bridge was closed try to walk up to the bridge to take photos only to have disgruntled cop shine lights at them and tell them to turn back.

“He wasn’t nice to them or anything he could have been like sorry ladies it’s closed, instead of just yelling TURN BACK NOW!” Our new companion states as a group of elderly women walk past us slowly.  We talk about the changes to the area the way some people do a dying relative. She leaves and walks away and we continue cleaning since it now seems the city won’t be doing that for us anymore.  “…can I take a photo?” She inquires returning,  documentation of this spot being an afterthought.

We finally settled down as city trucks roll up and park.  I start to worry about their presence but in the end they leave us alone. That doesn’t stop me from being anxious about the future …will they eventually seal this area off? Will they show up with a truck and dump hengie and the concrete slabs in some city sponsored hole? Last night we had our last moment at nowhere,  tonight we will have our last night at the henge. “The workers are probably drunk and stoned, they don’t care about what we’re doing” Illyria assures me.

Illyria suggest we change the peace sign made of small stones into an icon of the bridge a few minutes later we do and it’s good…for now.