K H U R R A M S I D D I Q I

E N G L I S H 3 0 5 w i t h J e n S h i p l e y

Contents

Prose

Turnpike…………………………………………………………………………..………..3 Turnpike (revised)………………………………………………………………………....17

Poetry

Pencil…………………………………………………………………………...…………33Pencil (revised)…………………………………………………………………....……….34Orange Mocha…………………………………………………………………………….35Orange Mocha (revised)…………………………………………………………………...37 Trinket and Us……………………………………………………………………………39 Trinket and Us (revised)…………………………………………………………………..43Mellow Spring……………………...……………………………………………………..47Fat Man…………………………………….……………………………………………..48 The Fall……………………….…………………………………………………………..50

Turnpike

The toll way, ever since its completion, had been a great blessing for Valley Forge. It wasbecause of such things in life, as the Pennsylvania Turnpike, that people like Stan could earnan extra buck or two, every now and then. For him, now and then were Tuesday nights andSunday afternoons. Stan was definitely a part time person. He went to auto-mechanic schoolpart time. He went to church part time. He even did his laundry part time, and at times itshowed. He also worked part time. Mondays, Wednesdays and Saturdays, he worked at theMobil gas station just off of Finkle. Tuesdays and Sundays, he worked the radio station. Therest of the week, he lived just about as free and productive as the yellow, fuzzy sparrows he watched pretty much all the time through the radio station window on Sundays. Tuesdayshowever, he couldn’t really see much out of them; he worked the night shift. WPAP, or “The Daddy” as it was sometimes called by the grand total of six employees that worked there, cast its telegraphic spell over whatever parts of Pennsylvania fell within 5-6miles to either side of the Pennsylvania Turnpike, between about exits seventy-four throughseventy-nine. Not that WPAP had a short transmission range; it was just that there really wasn’t much civilization between the stretch, hence only the handful of exits. Valley Forge was exit seventy-four, and the next exit, well, who cared about the next town; Valley Forge was sizzling and happening enough. With 2 bars, one of which had been closed for the pastfour months in the name of renovation, one Seven-Eleven (which was miraculously not runor owned by an Indian family) and but a single record-, not CD; record-store, Valley Forgehad a nightlife bettered by perhaps only a handful of cities.

Perhaps.

The Mobil gas station was the only thing open past ten at night.Dr. Sawyer was the only medical practitioner around, and the only reason the men of Valley Forge ever risked going to him was to hit on Nancy, an early thirty-something spinster with