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Show Blue Run/77 9 Joey One trick I learned from O W.-leave early. Hit the road at sunrise with your wife and daughter conked out in the backseat. Drive a hundred miles before anybody knows what's hit them A man-of-war is docked on Mobile Bay, a big, quite ship with the hull painted gray to make it invisible to enemies at sea. We're about to leave the gulf for good, head up into Mississippi toward Hattiesburg and Jackson and the river bridge between Greenville and Lake Village, Arkansas. The water's slack, low tide, an overcast day. My knuckles ache-this could all go very wrong I could really fuck things up. Mama, you're dead. I'm mad as hell at you for dying like this. How on earth could you die like this? Us at a goddamn birthday party. Just too goddamn much, these Stepwell theatrics Outside, big birds glide down close to the water and disappear. The ocean at sunrise is peaceful as Jesus, it makes me want to be home, pmning suckers off the tomato plants in Utah with the dew on the grass and hummingbirds buzzing the yellow blooms. On the radio-hardheaded woman is a thorn in the side of a man Mama involved me with her other men from the word go. Hell fire, I was one of them, wasn't I? Buddy Washer, my blood |
