Poems, Personals, and Commentary

Camp Freeway

One early morning this summer, I was driving past a freeway on-ramp, and I noticed a camping tent amongst the trees. If I hadn’t known that I was on a freeway, the area looked very much like a campground, with lovely pine trees, but of course without picnic benches, running water, showers, or toilets. But the place did look a lot like a typical California campground.

A few days later, there were two tents. Word was getting around.

But after a few weeks, no more tents. It would be interesting to know the stories of the people involved.

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