Tuesday, May 15, 2012

and there she lay

and there she lay

in the back of the jimmy’s cousin’s cherry red vega that stupid big white stripe slapped down its middle like some pill poppin’ matchbox car got hold of the one that made it larger robin trower reverberating shake rattling rolling out through its open hatchback out through its open doors out into the night

summer night

late in the evening later than lightening bugs later than street lights later than mosquitos and gnats and bats late in the evening not quite morning hours house cat prowling night owl hooting big moon shining

when god and everybody can see everything and everyone

when god and everybody don’t give a shit what goes on out beyond their front door that old entrance to the ancient antebellum propped up by nails wire spit and hope that door where on the other side he sits jimmy’s uncle rick he sits in his big lazyboy hunched over a bowl of buttermilk and crackers on a tv tray with a dark green floral pattern a shaky crippled hand lifting spoon to lips slurping mindlessly

wishing he was still sipping whiskey out of a small tumbler wishing he could still sip whiskey wishing he was sipping a little bourbon and branch right now pausing to lower the glass suck the essence from his lower lip while contemplating the world that was his world jimmy remembers stories told by uncle rick drunken holiday reveling when uncle rick would talk brag about when he ruled the streets where he was big rick boss rick badass rick where the people the fine citizens of fort gaines just right up the highway over on the river these fine church going folk would just cross to the other side of the road when they saw him uncle rick walking down the street

and now he sits in this wood paneled room with the shaky wooden end tables skinned with white doilies beneath heavy crystal ashtrays each holding a couple three four smoked down salems each of these branded with the day’s shade of bright red lipstick belonging to aunt betty his wife of a thousand years

sits in this room his den their den a swinging flying duck its wings spread for full mobile effect in the corner a mounted bass on the inside wall next to the gun rack

a twenty two with a scope a thirty thirty winchester a four ten over and under a twelve gauge pump ensconced protecting ready

sits in this room watching the ten o’clock dothan news playing at eleven over here across the border here in georgia when he and god and everybody they gaze through that window into the world

sits in this room but couldn’t even give a shit what goes on just outside that door

where the vega is parked

out there on the other side of the high school parking lot back behind the practice field pulled up on a little grassy spot under one of the big old oak trees that buffered the friday autumn arena from the back row of classrooms making up the wing that jutted down randolph

out there with jimmy and his older cousins billy and rick junior and their friends joey tee and tommy and hank whose daddy was the county sheriff

who all but jimmy ten twenty minutes maybe a half hour earlier had been doing the bounce the shocks wheezing animals rutting grunting huffing puffing steaming up the windows from the inside

bridge of sighs bridge of cries of a whimper of a moan

and there she lay

crucified upon the cross of her so called lust the cross of her lovers’ her tormentors’ her admirers’ pleasure their collective sputim smeared splotched between betwixt her slight glowing pale in the moonlight thighs

dripping from her overworked overused bright pink cunt

a thin trickle of it maybe it’s simply drool drawing a fine line from the corner of her mouth down her cheek

any embarrassment is has been smothered by the jack and coke chasing the nebutol slipped to her two three hours earlier how many of each hard to say it’s not like it’s the first time

it starts out easily enough she and a friend catching a ride up to the town square friday night on the square their world all thirteen years of it here in nineteen seventy two their world defined by their friday shaped by this square by these four corners by the movie theater over there that sometimes has movies playing often times not

the only movie theater really over in albany forty miles away albany being another place another world another time with its macdonalds and its krystal burgers and its krispey kreme donuts and its hardees and everything that makes a place a real place

and cars and trucks circle the square where in the middle stands a statue of a proud and vigilant confederate soldier looking out and over our women and children virgins most god’s special flock them all

across the street from patterson’s drugstore the texaco station the army navy surplus store

where the sidewalks are still raised up from a time when the roads were dirt dust and dross at the best of times mud muck and mire during the rainy times raised up with a couple of narrow steps keeping the horses from mingling with the populace

and the streetlights are still lit and the heat and humidity from the afternoon have decided to linger to hang around a few more hours giving rise to a misty layer of perspiration beneath the halter top that hides maybe even supports katie’s early to rise grits and bacon fed breasts

yeah katie she got them soft and easy curves those nineteen seventy two gimme gimme jiggle giggle grab and dab oh me oh my oh

fit within them short short cut off jeans her cute peach of an ass all juice on the chin ripe still on the tree twirling in the summer pre-dawn breeze

smoking marlboro reds femme fatale cracker style

and cousins billy and rick junior brothers they be they come cruising around circling the square billy driving that silly vega of his a single hooker header hanging off its over tuned four cylinder blasting the vroom vroom through its single cherry bomb muffler rick junior his chin cradled by crossed arms resting on the passenger side door window down his eyes bright and searching

they slow to a stop katie she leaves her friend leaning up against the low wall smoking a cigarette katie walks up leans into in through billy’s window

she says hey

he says hey

she says what you up to

he says hey you want to go party he says hey this is for you he says hey why don’t you take it come take a ride he says hey you want to go party

she katie she looks back over her shoulder her friend she shrugs she katie she looks back at billy

he says hey no just you why don’t you just hop in come on take a ride with us

she says katie she says hey i don’t know you know remember what happened last time heh well i sort of remember you know

he says turning and looking out the front windshield slouched and looking through the steering wheel he says yeah heh that was kind of fun huh

she katie she blushes she shrugs she says yeah i don’t know yeah i guess heh yeah i guess so she katie she turns looks over her shoulder at her friend her friend she shrugs flicks her cigarette looks down at her feet slipped into flip flops dirt road dusty katie she looks at billy she says hey she says y’all be good not going to hurt me

he says no baby we love you

he says hey here take this it’s cool we got weed we got jack we got some co-cola come on baby just hop on it we gonna have fun

and there she lay

crucified on the cross that is her memories

swaddled in an ugga blanket big old ugly bulldog in black and red on this white blanket adorned blessed by

the university

the church the embodiment of all that is good and wonderful and righteous in this world the vessel that holds memories for one and all good people holds ‘em like that urn held onto jimmy’s daddy

til jimmy and his brother sprinkled part of their daddy into the gulf of mexico

til jimmy and his brother sprinkled the rest of him atop their momma’s grave lying there on the edge of town right down from the county jail maybe a hundred yards or so gravel paths and tombstones within amidst the dry grassy field that was that is the cemetery the burial grounds for




a little piece of shit smaller now than it was then dying peckerwood hovel wannabe hamlet in the hollow tobacco road keep the nigger down by nudging maybe nourishing a fine protective layer of white trash kind of town sitting on the highway between betwixt here and there ain’t quite alabama but almost might as well be way down there in the far nether regions of southwest georgia

the kind of town that upon leaving someone might deem to think well fuck this town and may god continue to fuck this town up the ass like he always has like she always will

may the devil herself keep blowing her horrific magical fart through the smokestacks of that goddamn pulpwood plant sitting over there on the edge of town smokestacks belching flatulence of a kind most dark and dismal encircling enslaving dem’ pulpwood niggers

one might think that

one just might

upon leaving cuthbert seeing cuthbert in the rearview mirror it getting even smaller in the exhaust in the distance

one might think that

and there she lay

crucified on the cross that is jimmy’s evening just another night in


jimmy he thinks to himself gazing a little unsteady wondering

is it done

looking around up into the oak trees are those eyes what is that then through the branches some fucking night bird flitting overhead

jimmy he thinks to himself

is it over

looking back down into the vega a couple of moths batting at the dome light dancing in its glow seduced lust unrequited cockblocked by plastic

jimmy he thinks

can we go home now

jimmy he thinks

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