Пролетая над гнездом кукушки

           IranacrossthegroundsinthedirectionIrememberedseeingthedoggo,towardthehighway.IrememberIwastakinghugestridesasIran,seemingtostepandfloatalongwaysbeforemynextfootstrucktheearth.IfeltlikeIwasflying.Free.NobodybotherscomingafteranAWOL,Iknew,andScanloncouldhandleanyquestionsaboutthedeadman—noneedtoberunninglikethis.ButIdidn’tstop.IranformilesbeforeIstoppedandwalkeduptheembankmentontothehighway.

           Icaughtaridewithaguy,aMexicanguy,goingnorthinatruckfullofsheep,andgavehimsuchagoodstoryaboutmebeingaprofessionalIndianwrestlerthesyndicatehadtriedtolockupinanuthousethathestoppedrealquickandgavemealeatherjackettocovermygreensandloanedmetenbuckstoeatonwhileIhitchhikedtoCanada.IhadhimwritehisaddressdownbeforehedroveoffandItoldhimI’dsendhimthemoneyassoonasIgotalittleahead.

           ImightgotoCanadaeventually,butIthinkI’llstopalongtheColumbiaontheway.I’dliketocheckaroundPortlandandHoodRiverandTheDallestoseeifthere’sanyoftheguysIusedtoknowbackinthevillagewhohaven’tdrunkthemselvesgoofy.I’dliketoseewhatthey’vebeendoingsincethegovernmenttriedtobuytheirrighttobeIndians.I’veevenheardthatsomeofthetribehavetooktobuildingtheiroldramshacklewoodscaffoldingalloverthatbigmillion-dollarhydroelectricdam,andarespearingsalmoninthespillway.I’dgivesomethingtoseethat