You Are Weighing Me Down

How far to Goolwa? asks Nietzsche.

About forty, says Sweezus. We can do that in an hour.

Glad you think so, says Nietzsche.

Try singing, says Ageless. Or reciting a poem.

I can do without your advice, says Nietzsche. You are one of the superfluous many-too-many. You are weighing me down. I have a mind to......

Sheez, I'm sorry! says Sweezus. You're so awesome at riding, I keep forgetting you've never done it before.

Perhaps we could take another break soon, says Nietzsche.

Yeah right, says Sweezus. You don't know this part of the country.

He is saying this simply to discourage Nietzsche from stopping.

It works.

There are dangers? asks Nietzsche.

Drop bears, says Sweezus.

They drop from the trees onto the unsuspecting, says Ageless.

Nietzsche doesn't like the sound of drop bears.

I shall recite something, says Nietzsche. From my favourite poet.

Who's your favourite poet? asks Sweezus.

Holderlin, says Nietzsche.

Never heard of him, says Sweezus. Is he German?

Was, says Nietzsche.

Go on then, says Sweezus.

Nietzsche recites the Song of Hyperion:

A place of rest
isn't given to us.
Suffering humans
decline and fall
blindly from one hour to the next
like water thrown
from cliff to cliff
year after year
down into the Unknown.

Shit a brick! says Sweezus. That's depressing.

(Maybe so, but now they are closer to Goolwa).