In Southern Minnesota, my job was to pile sugar beets as they came in from the fields. Truck by truck, twenty-four hours a day, every day—unless it rained too much, and the vehicles got stuck.
The ideal height of a beet pile is twenty-eight feet. The lengths would eventually become one hundred and fifty yards. As the piles got high and long, I would walk amongst the snaking hills to find the best beets to take home as trophies.
Sometimes, I remembered the canyons along the border. There I would search for my prize. A rock unlike the others.
I remember there was a total absence of sound. I was in love with this silence. That is until the helicopters came or the soldiers would pass by— unless it rained too much and the vehicles got stuck.
I would lay flat behind a shrub and watch them. If only I had a couple rockets, I would think. Maybe I would have the jump on them and I could make it back before the helicopters came?
Does it matter?
No. It’s just beets.
It’s more and more beets.
I was worried that the girl would not be ok after what happened in the meadow. It turned out I was right.
I try not to let it bother me too much.
This coffee is terrible and I fucking hate powdered cream.
What do I love?
I love watching dog shows on TV.
I am specialized in a very complicated field of incredibly delicate surgery.
I cannot wait another minute and I steal napkins from the restaurant.
Right now, I am not thinking about surgery or coffee or even dog shows.
I am instead masturbating late into the night while driving again.
The fields of corn seem endless. It is as though there could never be anything else.
zachary h. loewenstein never meant for things to be like this. He was born in a barn but prefers caves. Zachary has lived and worked for many years in Lower Luxembourg after having received his Doctoral Degree in Anesthesiology from the University of Leiden in the Netherlands. Zachary illustriously retired from the Non-Arab Affairs Department of the Shin Bet as an officer and is a successful organic gardener. His favorite bird is Maglan. In Zachary’s spare time, he likes to finance and provide logistical support for coups d’etat in Latin America because why the fuck not?