Robertson gets the mail. Robertson opens the package: A sweater from someplace overseas, heavy, expensive, Something Robertson could wear around the office That Janice could ask about & he could say Oh this Old thing? I don’t remember. This is the way Robertson plans his interactions. Predictable, controlled, easy. He drives the same way. The same routine each day, Order of operations checked off in order to avoid disaster. Robertson would make a hell of a pilot if he wasn’t afraid Of flying. Robertson hates the TSA, the invasion of privacy, His junk on display in the scanner for the underpaid Security theater officer to judge & shrug & sweep away. Robertson would rather drive. Here’s Robertson On the road, miles & miles to go before he sleeps, Best Westerns & Holiday Inns shimmering in his wake. Free breakfasts never free, bathrooms never sanitized Enough for his comfort. He carries an extra pillow & Blanket in the trunk, checks for bed bugs, asks for extra soap. Robertson on…
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