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Show Go Love/109 12. I shower in the Super 8 bathroom, a little hungover, then head across the parking lot for coffee in the hotel lobby The pool is peaceful Eastward, a rusty sun rises over woods of leafed hickory and pin oak. West is delta land-cropdusters sputtering over soy fields and milo growing right up to the front porch boards of people whose mothers and fathers and brothers and sisters are buried right out in the backyard under chimney bricks. South is town itself, rebuilt strip mall style around the Willy Ray City Center after the killer tornado that blew the top of P.O. and Lonoke Bank & Trust. Northward, the funeral home where Jimmy once lay, and now Mama Across the parking lot, the Burger King drive-thru's jam-packed with bricklayers and concrete finishers come for sausage biscuits and coffee Hillbilly music leaks out their windows, drinking songs about fucked up life and love-old dogs and children and water melon wine. A long hair in a Ford smiles when his food sack comes. He parks, lets her idle while he eats. He could be me, beat to the core, ripping open the salt and pepper packets with his teeth, dusting a gold hashbrown patty. He chews with his eyes shut, then puts it back in gear and drives on out to the job site where he'll bust his ass for merest of his life, where his son's sons will bend rebar into |
