Random Acts of Sanity

first there is this then there is that

flip the card roll the dice take a coin rub a dub dub scratch the itch scratch off a winner anyone can win all it takes is one lucky guess pull it from a dream pull it from a vision pull it out his ass shake shake shake the eight ball what does it say

he don't know he just thinks hey they just gave me a number when i was young

oh lawdy

friday it do lead on into sattidy just like it do just like it always do

the institutionalization the ritualization of love almighty if it's tuesday it must be belgium if it's wednesday it must be meatloaf

bay bridge crossing riding the ribbon running the top deck into the city norcal winter moving into spring not quite there on its way getting around to it the tempers of youth flaring the toddler of the season just can't make up its mind it rains it doesn't it ain't right now it ain't raining right now it's saturday afternoon and the clouds they gather like a tantrum brewing it's going to it's going to rain

but not yet

but not just now

that time of the year though tis the season for the reason don't you know sorta in between stretched not squeezed

maybe it's more lift and separate mother earth frisky teen that she is she be so tempestuous and sexy right about now

silly little tart telegraphing her blood orange crack of dawn dip dip dipping her little finger into the bowl of desire tasting the crystalline cries of christian blood

saints and sinners simmer and stew

while white puffer clouds move across the azure palette a little bit of grey edge a little cranky maybe not enough sleep perhaps they move across the heavens with a purpose with such speed it seems maybe he is traveling within some magical weather channel blessed time elapsed photography exhibit at the exploratorium

not only does he glimpse them flying past his open sun roof not only does he catch them winking at him suggestively he also contributes he complements he leans back his head he sends big rasta wafts floating upward and onward

puff-la

it's a wondrous world not a bad day for a drive not a bad day to be alive hey diddle diddle jumping over the moon jumping the shark whatever either or

phat hand-rolled joey filter to lips smoke to lungs tingle to mind and body an easing of the gas pedal sun poked and jabbed through the windows driving through a plate full of sparkles and smirks

lo the hint of skin brushing skin still fresh

the tickle of tongue tattling secrets never to be told only to taunt tease til maybe tomorrow some tomorrow someone's tomorrow

humma humma ding dong din faux sayonara sends the mix to loop to groundhog day to the doorstep of deja vu

just another southern born middle aged white male wannabe redneck cracker hippie punker hipster hepster sacrilegious spiritualistic pseudo intellectual pretender to the throne behind the wheel of his late model beemer in third gear near redline not a complaint not a single whimper or protest the ipod full of tunes he recognizes but cannot name or claim any sort of relationship with other than some unrequited need for immediate gratification that expeditious satisfaction granted by some instant internet moment of i'll take one of those and i'll take it now thank you very much

the crisp march air reaching down through the roof through the open wound slapping him in the face like bruno the barber his pink palms slick with aqua velva

wintergreen sting

to remind him tis time to break from his quietude and rejoin the world

zion i and jah

come down off the mountain deliver the tablets thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's wife forgive me father for i have sinned ain't no sunshine when she's gone

he glances to his left as the vehicular stream approaches the ess curves before the tunnel

short red wine stain of a car some chevy cavalier hyundai kia mazda something or other with vague nevi of confused metallurgy several smudges not really knowing if they should be the dull burgundy or the freshly oxidized flakes of corrosion the venn diagram of the two so subtle as to suggest some sort of arranged marriage some sort of symbiosis

mistletoe hiding in the crotch of the old oak towering over the side yard

he glances to the left just as the rust bucket sidles up next to him just as a cute young twenty something sitting passengerside backseat glances right a large colorful buttplug of a blown glass pipe sliding from her lips followed by a billow of smoke and a smile as she sees him remove the joey from between betwixt his teeth it too followed by his own billowing shroud

a temporary fuzzy envelope hiding his lecherous leer for one brief second swirling about before whisking upwards and out the sun roof

seminolish semaphores

puff-la

sending suggestions signaling his smug complacency devoid of any intention other than thought and theory oh darlin' if he may if he might have this wish tonight

she waves a childish finger wiggling of a gesture teeth broad and white she reaches forward taps the shoulder of the scraggly bearded pork pie wearing black tee shirt adorned hipster headbanger with his ass attached to the front bucket doing the whiplash while playing knick knack paddywhack give a dog a bone on the dashboard

he turns left dazed and confused shrugging a little what the fuck interrupting a knick a knack then he too glances right grins that sly stoner's grin toothy and knowing spoils the moment and he knows he spoils the moment how does he know the boy just does

he just does

and a sprinkling a spritzing

stretched not squeezed

the season just can't make up its mind it rains it doesn't now it is right now it's raining it's saturday afternoon and the clouds they gather like a tantrum unleashed yeah it's going to rain yeah it's raining

pulling down into fourth he passes the bus on the right lips like wine passes the vee dubya camper on the left with a burp and a belch the current of the stream does the big mix the big stir the big weave moves them both on through the ess curves through the yerba buena tunnel and out the other side

random acts of sanity and all that

Jesup, Part the Twelfth (and something new)

jesup part the twelfth read by jimbob



and ron johnson he believes that he'll go find sally he'll find her and he believes they'll get together

and they'll fuck

they will make out and they will touch each other and they will pinch and tickle each other and kiss and bite and nibble and giggle

and they'll fuck

sometimes they'll fuck in his truck parked down by the river out through the woods back in that little clearing where one night when it's raining and they can't get into the back into the truck's bed when they stay in the cab and the steam from the outside and the steam from the inside cause the metal roof to sweat and drip and in the dusky dawn of the dashboard light scramble her sandaled foot knocks off the rear view mirror and she bumps her head on the steering wheel and raises a whelp so big the next day she has to brush her hair back into an off kilter pony tail claim to her mother that it is fashion

during these times these weekends these holidays they will not talk much at all they will hardly ever speak have no time for conversation the notion of the spoken word of language lost to the nuance of whimper and moan there is no room for any such see spot run

ron he'll come driving over late in the evening he'll find sally about to leave her friends those friends of sally that ron doesn't really know jesup being small but rather cliquish and set in its ways

and sally

she will be about to leave

this crowd her friends

she'll wander off

coy

tipsy

knowing

she'll hop right up into the truck his truck they'll drive off sometimes down to the river sometimes over to the elks club pond over round back near the edge of the pine woods sometimes out back in the parking lot behind the kmart sometimes the best times they'll go to her house if perhaps her parents are off away for the weekend maybe away down at the lakehouse

yeah sometimes the best times they'll go to her house her home a big rambling two story with a wrap around porch set in the middle of what used to be an old pecan grove

they'll run up the wide staircase to her room her room all the way upstairs in the converted attic with the peaked ceilings and dormers providing pockets and nooks and crannies for the day's heat to have settled and simmered to linger long past dinner and their clothes will be off before they hit the last step and they will fall upon her bed together arms around each other grabbing at each other and she so wet and he so hard and his cock will slip will slide tab aa slot be and they will fuck

long giggling loud

and ron and sally they will have at it with wild wiggling abandon crazy old fashioned teenage acrobatic hanging on for dear life desperate fucking rolling around on the white cotton sheets swimming through the clouds of humidity the day's diaphoresis pouring from bodies all a'blur stirring sweat and semen and spit and venom and juices of all sorts into a frothy attempt

to find the love

that should be that is supposed to be

that really can be if only they let it

if only if only if only

they could believe

but the fire of youth oh now it does burn hot sizzles bacon in the pan radiator bursting blacksmith banging all a'glow how can such heat persist where can it go from here how do they find that place where do they find that spot where do they find that open window where they can simply look out see the world feel the world breathe it in take a deep breath

let go that sigh that it's all gonna be all right

that comfortable sigh

shoulder lifting exhaustive god thank god that part's over thank god they can pause still the heart do the eye gazing thing hold hands go the movies maybe plant a garden paint a fence think about finances rent groceries cable tee vee shop for a new washer dryer combo find the right diaper service montessori school ballet lessons little league braces

like keith and julie who got knocked up when they were all juniors last year who got married while keith got his gee eee dee so he could say yeah i graduated keith he went to work at his old man's television and appliance repair shop while julie got big and skinny and angry and sad

keith and julie who moved out to live at julie's family's house out by the lake

keith and julie who would sometimes come by to parties and julie would peck on keith about drinking and julie would peck on keith about smoking dope and keith would sneak out past the edge of the crowd sneak outside by the garage sneak out on the deck say he was going to go take a leak he'd pop a beer and he'd smoke a joint and he'd come sulking back into the party and julie would give him that look that told them all that telegraphed the future to all who paid attention who bothered to notice

keith and julie barely eighteen and they they were already bored and the sad part the really sad part the part that scared the shit out of everyone the terrifying part is that they weren't even angry bored they weren't the bored that they had been a year ago that i'm so fucking bored i just want to get drunk and fuck and fuck things up kind of bored no they weren't angry bored they were accepting bored they were settled bored they were so what the fuck

and ron and sally they see keith and julie and ron and sally they fight to keep the flames ablaze they keep the fires so fucking hot walking across that south georgia asphalt hot gun barrel hot firecracker hot

ron and sally they see that they have plenty of time the road it's long the road ain't got no end they got plenty of time dancing down the road way down the road should they live that long ron and sally they drink down the future in big thirsty gulps

even when they sleep that long deep curled up in each other's arms war weary afterfucking sleep beneath the ceiling fan whirring through the still they burn they burn hot

blood pouring from a wound hot the feel of the deer's heart cut fresh from the kill hot

Jesup, Part the Eleventh

and ron johnson yeah he'll end up hanging with his friends doing the shit that he and his friends do but toward the end of the night when things wind down his mind well his mind will begin to focus on the true reason for coming home his mind his body his cock they all converge on that one true reason for making the drive down highway and byway and back road and on into town

for ron johnson he believes in the one truth that bodily truth

yes he do believe he do believe yes he do

ron johnson he believes he was taught to believe in god the father almighty the creator of heaven and earth and in jesus christ his only son our lord

ron johnson he do believe in the father the son the holy ghost he believes in purple haze blotter acid peyote mushrooms and lsd created by the hand of man himself he believes in moses mohammad buddha vishnu he believes in the blessings of her sacred goodness the kind green bud he believes in the power of love he believes in family he believes in the ultimate goodness in mankind he believes that

evil exists

in everyone

ron johnson he believes in the holy act of fucking he believes in grabbing a handful of hair of the willing and bringing her down onto his phallic being for sacred consumption he believes in the holy act of wiping his ass he believes in jacking off with wondrous abandon he believes in picking belly button lint out of his fucking belly button while he contemplates world peace while he contemplates when he might next jack off yet again

and again

ron johnson he believes in coughing up a big loogie spitting it into the gutter and continuing on his way ron johnson he believes that

love lasts

until a person just don't want it to last anymore and even then it

lingers

ron johnson he believes that he doesn't do enough to end the misery that permeates the world he believes that he eats more than his fair share he believes that he shouldn't wear leather maybe he shouldn't eat meat he believes that he could have given the fucker on the corner a dollar without blinking an eye he believes yes he believes as edmund burke said that all that is necessary for evil to succeed is for good men to do

nothing

and ron johnson he fucking believes in nothing he believes in everything he believes nay he knows that he is confused about what to believe

his momma she taught him one thing his daddy he taught ron johnson another thing his cousins and friends they taught him some things that haunt him to this day the church of his youth hell they taught him shit that he just could not fathom let alone believe

ron johnson his teachers they taught him to believe in the flag and all that she represents he pledges allegiance to this fucking piece of cloth sewn by some old white woman for which it stands one fucking nation of crazy fucking people who could give a flying fuck about anyone else liberty and justice for everyone except those that don't fucking deserve it hey woman whip me up some broad cloth make it kind of colorful whip me up something that i can wave around something that the boys will lay down and die for

ron johnson his teachers taught him

to believe in the innate goodness of these united states of america they taught him to believe that once old king george was not a jolly old soul not a jolly old soul was he and all of the fucking limey redcoat motherfuckers were evil incarnate but later through the triumph of redemption and the miracle of forgetting the past these chaps they ain't so bad now hey they are white and speak english well most of them do

ron johnson yeah he believes the wiccan rede bide the witch's law ye must in perfect love in perfect trust fulfill and ye harm none do what ye will what ye send forth comes back to thee so ever mind the rule of three yeah yeah when oh when will the werewolves of london be smote with the

silver bullet

or three when oh when will the devils be brought before god to testify when will they be dragged through the streets behind the chariot of apollo

ron johnson he closes his eyes and counts to three

one

two

three

and ron johnson he wonders when will she the goddess of love lust and loathing bring him up on charges of not giving a shit when will she drive the nails through his palms his ankles his hips when will that goddamn bitch go ahead and get it over with when will this cunt of a goddess stop squatting over them all pissing her beliefs pissing all over ron's beliefs

ron johnson he knows oh he knows it's all in god's plan who was conceived of the holy spirit born of the virgin mary suffered under pontius pilate was crucified died and was buried and

then the sun went away and the dogwood tree became what they know it to be today and lightening struck and it struck and it struck and it struck goddamn it still strikes today the lightening struck when the europeans fucked up the new world when the europeans fucked up africa when turks slaughtered the armenians when the germans and the brits and the french kicked the shit out of each other when the japanese slaughtered the chinese when the germans slaughtered the jews the gays the gypsies when the americans dropped fire on the germans when they dropped hell itself on the japanese when the jews ran the arabs out of jerusalem when the chinese fucked up the koreans when the chinese fucked up the tibetans when the americans helped the vietnamese laotions cambodians fuck themselves up when the world stood by and watched them fuck themselves up when the arabs fucked their women up when they continue to fuck themselves up oh yes it do

lightening strikes and fire leaps

all around them while they all play their respective fiddles play that funky fiddle white boy yellow boy brown boy black boy

all in god's plan he who descended into hell the third day he arose again from the dead he ascended into heaven he sits at the right hand of god the father almighty

whence he shall come to judge the living and the dead

yeah ron johnson he believes he believes that he will be judged yes he will be judged but not by these motherfuckers in jesup he will not find twelve men who will be his peers he will not find twelve angry jurors that will hesitate to place his sorry neck into the noose he will not

believe in the holy spirit the holy catholic church the communion of saints the forgiveness of sins the resurrection of the body and life everlasting he will not no he will not believe in anything except the bloodied bodies that he sees on the television screen he will believe in anything that walter cronkite says is righteous he will believe in marsha and the brady bunch he will believe that raquel welch has righteous drunken tits that deserve not his lips but his teeth he will believe that the only desperate housewife is the one who has not tasted his cock he will believe anything that euell gibbons tells him about the holy down home sanctity of homespun americana

ron johnson yeah he believes he do he do believe oh lawdy yeah he do believe

Jesup, Part the Tenth (again, expanded)

and the next day he is in the back seat of the family station wagon naked roof rack rusting a bit where it attaches to the back the wood paneling that is really not wood paneling peeling just a bit at the edges lovingly wrapped around about him his family his stereo a trunk and a couple of suitcases

off to atlanta on his way to the new world his new world where he will find his path where he will make his way

off to spend a year in school

where his keseyesque dreams of freedom and love and peaceful coexistence picked up from random local library visits the jesup public library where he had already read every book on every shelf from doctor doolittle to doctor zhivago where he had accidentally stumbled across the electric kool aid acid test because the title sounded kind of different

crazy ideas picked up from well-intended and idealistic mentors who had migrated south a few years ago to avoid the draft via teacher deferment a sense to right the wrongs a jim crow corrective action a stirring of the pot a southern adventure where they could sit on the edge of their own yankee cauldron bubbling over behind them they with no nevermind no sense of irony their revolutionary fervor carrying them feeding them ah a decision some regretted a decision many simply accepted as their lot in life

silly thoughts picked up from his weekly viewing of love american style

all these dreams

all these hopeful peeks into some utopian future of what will be once he sheds jesup all this shit will slam into the late seventies all about me i'm ok you're ok graduates of woodstock those bloodbrothers yes who made the promise to ron and his kin back in the sixties who said keep the faith baby back when ron sat around watching and listening and believing yes believing when they believed the hippies when six turned out to be nine when the sign said long haired freaky people need not apply when they said they were going to change the world age of aquarius there's gonna be a revolution power to the people right on then

they the hippies they these revolutionaries

ron he guesses they got tired of fighting the world they just became the world broke the covenant nineteen seventy seven they had broken their promise and ron johnson on his way to atlanta

to go to college

spend the school year in atlanta

where he will try to love the dead but some new found cynicism some pre-seeded uncertainty will get beneath his skin seep into his blood taint his outlook he will try to love the dead and all their hippie silliness he will try to keep on truckin' he will try to know that rider but his exposure to infection by invisible spores of anthraxian doubt will permeate his miracle his mars hotel his tennessee jed he will eventually fall in with the pistols and the clash and the stooges and get a tattoo and

it is harsh and

it is daring but

he still manages to find sally's name in his darkness

and ron johnson he will have doubts about god herself and the church the one true church jesus yes jesus himself his holy self hell he will get left behind as well after ron's first taste of crystal clear liquid love dripped dropped beneath the tongue just a little dab will do ya plop plop fizz fizz oh what a relief it is hop on the bus tune in turn on jesus hell he won't be so much left behind as he will simply be asked to wipe up all that blood and join the card game like any other schmuck and

ron will accuse the hippies of treasonous high crimes and

ron will find hope in on the road redemption in a sparse naked lunch resurrection in this gravity's rainbow and forgiveness in his basketball diaries

his president his fellow georgian he will hold lust in his heart for fuck's sake ron he will hold his lust gripped in his hand

strong like bull

and ron will flirt with the college girls at the dorm parties at the frat parties and down at everybody's pizza where they will guzzle beers and play quarters and wales tales and sneak drunken winks and tickled toes and invitations to get together outside to share a joint to find himself the next morning sneaking out of alabama hall

sometimes with his momma monogrammed underwear in hand

sometimes with hers

but that will happen only a couple of times maybe four or five some vicious drunken rutting in the stalls

love maybe it really is stronger

he'll go back to jesup on some weekends before thanksgiving and then during the winter it will become harder to break away and then springtime in atlanta oh sugar oh baby ain't nothing like springtime in atlanta when the dogwoods bloom and the robins sing and the dew settles back on the green green grass in the late evening and

the coeds publish all in lullwater park

but he'll still make it home every now and then he'll still make it home and he and sally they'll get together

he'll find his way home every now and then he'll make his way back to jesup something about it has a hold on him he'll end classes on friday something will tug at him sort of like the feeling to light up a cigarette ain't nobody say anything him he just has to go ain't nobody say a word

he will just need to get and go he'll just walk off campus to where he parks his old truck open the door turn the key and head on home sometimes not telling anyone he'll just show up in jesup his momma won't know his daddy won't know his friends he will find them he will find the crowd isn't that difficult not like there are a lot of place to go his friends they'll say

hey ron

like of course he is supposed to be there like it is just another friday night

ron he'll come driving home after classes after whatever might trigger an urge to simply go he'll come driving home find his friends with whom he'll be drinking and smoking and bragging and cussing and spitting and doing the same things that they had always done that those that had come before them had done thy kingdom come thy will be done

sometimes guns might be involved if maybe one of them pulls out a q-beam and starts spotting varmints their beady little eyes glowing out from the edge of the woods maybe a opossum maybe a raccoon maybe an armadillo someone might have a pistol someone might have a twenty-two rifle or a thirty thirty taken from the rack of their truck someone might have a shotgun there might be a cacophony a staccato of shots followed by the cannon like blast of the twelve-gauge overkill a haze of blue smoke hanging in the darkness the sharp sulfur stinging

the eyes might disappear

or not

dead or alive

or not

into the peaty distance they will never have known they will never have cared on earth as it is in heaven

sometimes there might be fights crazy clumsy swinging stumbling bloody fights if quaaludes are consumed and quaaludes are often consumed so there might be a lot of fights a little vitamin q coupled with a few beers combined with a natural ornery tendency to say what one thinks at any given time with an especially blunt drunken honesty drowned in self-important judgement of one's sister one's girlfriend one's momma and grandmomma

hey i like your black loafers speaking of black loafers how's your old man

ah geeze

sorry man that was a dirty crack shit speaking of dirty cracks how's your old lady

and a punch might need to be thrown and another and a circle might be formed and a nose might be bloodied and an eye might go red to black to blue and they might knock the shit out of each other knock each other into a pulpy mess of methaqualone mystery oblivious and numb to the pain confused by the blood streaming into their eyes by the gap formed from a suddenly missing tooth by the mask of spun sanity threading wrapping around their minds with a seven fourteen blanket

pummeling

pummeling

with bloodied knuckles that might swell to bursting the next morning

pummeling each other amidst cheers jeers and beers until one might fall into the arms of his mate collapse into an exhausted embrace before someone steps out from the circle and nobly says in that good old boy meets john wayne the peacemaker voice he might say oh kay boys let's break it up before someone gets really hurt

and they might all laugh except the one on the receiving end of the ass kicking he might be glowering staring at the crowd with that fucking stink eye muttering oaths of revenge

he is a just god he is a vengeful god

but most of the times they might just tell lies and half truths about fishing and fucking mostly about fucking the who the when the how many times the did she swallow and yeah every now and then yeah

on occasion

sometimes

an honest emotion or fear might float around

like when the subject comes around to vance he'd died last summer he'd died last summer in a fucked up way he got really drunk he had a fast car big yellow chevelle with black stripes big tires

wheels that said i'll fuck you leaning over a pine log stretched out in the middle of the meadow in a rainstorm

vance in his yellow chevelle screaming down the road the road curved left yance forgot to follow fucking big ass oak tree defining the bend absorbing the car caressing the chrome crushing the cranium

a bodily trauma on a grand scale

ron's friend billy he might say yeah i hear they found his tongue bit clear off found it stuck up on the tree

then they might be quiet for a while not silent but quiet a quiet sigh exhaled a quiet gaseous burp swallowed a quiet glance around

then

those that had gone away might talk about how they missed the place but can't see coming back those that had stayed behind just not understanding what it was that anyone needed to do anyplace not getting why anyone needed to go outside of jesup georgia

and a couple or three or four that had gone away to the university in athens where their daddies had gone before them their daddies already being the town lawyer the town doctor the town pharmacist they planning to return to step into their daddies' shoes they not really saying much they usually being one of the over-luded prize fighters oft times the muttering one sitting apart from the crowd licking his wounds

Jesup, Part the Ninth

goddamn he misses sally she a year younger she in her senior year of high school while he enters the world leaving her behind

goddamn he misses sally thoughts of that last night on the court house lawn brings about a stirring in his heart in his jeans that last night before heading off to atlanta that first time a sunday night the moon dull the stars covered by a thin layer of clouds late enough so that most of the street lights had extinguished their hissing candescence late enough that the mosquitos had long since retired back to the swamp to fuck breed procreate repopulate on the murky waters late enough that the occasional heat lightening lights up the outside of the courthouse with some random time elapsed strobe light beckoning the beginning of a black and white horror movie on tee vee in the early early morning the sound turned all the way down

they walk along the sidewalk hand in hand the soft pre-dew grass beckoning to them from beneath the shadows of the magnolia they glancing left right behind scurrying across the lawn behind the tree at first leaning against the smooth bark ron presses up against sally kissing her with a going away passion a sailor about to ship out she promising to wait he promising to write both promising anything that would provide the excuse to move to the next base

ron's hand up and under her tee shirt her small pert breasts wanting needing no bra ron's hands lifting the soft cotton skirt sliding slipping down into the soft cotton panties her legs spreading bowlegged she going onto her tippy toes opening up providing succor to the lost the desperate

both of them sliding sliding she scraping her back on the bark leaving scratches to explain tomorrow but that's tomorrow tonight she scrapes her back as she slips down onto her ass ron onto his knees their lips never parting she pulling at the buttons on his shirt

mumbling whispers of encouragement cracker love songs beneath the magnolia ron softly proclaims her beauty as she pulls back the drapes opens the gate her flat stomach a swirling portico of welcome he expressing his admiration of each nipple as his tongue darts back and forth

slowing down as his lips approach her soft tanned throat taking a moment touching her vulnerability her last little bit of innocence his fingers softly about her throat the lightest of touches a tear drops from his dope reddened eyes her eyes give way to a momentary note of surprise of concern before he murmurs his love

Jesup, Part the Eighth

slipping away from the clearing looking into his rearview mirror the orange glow of the tire afire fading into the night

he driving into town to meet up with sally miz sally hopkins

where she slides right up next to him hops up into his truck slips across the bench seat her tanned thigh touching his don't you know she causes him to have that same nervous shiver oh how he fumbles how he knows he'd still be fumbling if he could

his grin a drunken stoned ear to ear wide and toothy and full of expectation and hope

sweet sally oh such sweetness indeed she the honey in his tea long straight hair not blonde not brown depending on the seasons seasoned by the sun such curves oh so hot not by the way she looks but how she carries her look

this south georgia hippie chick sometimes in her peasant blouse and cut off jeans sometimes in a soft tee and a wispy skirt sometimes in her overhauls and tube top the buttons open on one side the top strap longer on the other giving an admirer just that briefest glimpse of sugary seventies small tit cleavage soft and inviting

most of the times barefoot dainty white angel feet those little piggies always out going to the market scurrying about the dry dusty ground happy as can be happy as someone could ever be

ron he wonders how it's possible that he can be so happy around that cute little bottle of bubble up ron he wonders if he'll ever feel that way again god how it might feel to be that happy all the time god how it might be not to know the sadness of her missing from his side from within his arms

the loneliness of a long atlanta winter in the dorms with all these boys from parts unknown to him these boys who just don't understand

what a boy has to do to become a man

all these boys from new york and new jersey and miami and cleveland driving their daddy bought cars wearing their momma bought clothes so easy to come upon such things that just show up not even on their birthdays not even on christmas these boys their mommas don't even bother to use the permanent marker to write their names on their underwear making sure when they go off to school with ten pair of drawers they come home with ten pair of drawers

these boys whose mommas probably brought them breakfast in bed every morning interrupting their weak masturbatory efforts around tucked away playboys and penthouses whose mommas wiped their ass with extra soft charmin right up to the day they left for college

he could tell by the way they walked from the bathroom down the dorm hallway kind of pigeon toed to keep their asscheeks from rubbing

these boys who will never understand who will never know in their bones the tragedy the hole left in their hearts lynrd skynrd ceased to be ronnie van zandt and his plane falling from the sky into those fiery woods the unused tickets from the concert that was never to be pinned up on the cork board above his desk that saddest of sad

last autumn

ron's first fall away from sally his first quarter away at school

that morning before classes after a night of the usual beers and bongs the news comes across the radio a little matter of fact announcement a little interruption on ninety six rock dubya kay ell ess atlanta it has sliced him like a paper cut deep and sudden and painless until he sees the trickle of blood him standing there in the middle of the room his towel wrapped round his waist drops of water beading up on his shoulders dripping from his hair he sees the blood that unexplained loss

he remembers assorted words

skynrd

private plane

mississippi

crash

fire

van zandt dead

rossington collins barely alive

greenville south carolina

hoss sitting on the edge of the bunk his head in his hands looking up at him

they don't speak they can't speak hoss he takes budweisers out of the mini fridge pops the tops ron he loads the gatlin bong they stack all five skynrd albums on the turntable even the brand new street survivors hoss just picking it up the day before they'll be talking about the prophecy for weeks that endless leisure time called youth the frivolity of philosophy the time and will to grieve they play them all the way through flip them over play them through again over and over

lather rinse repeat

until a day later after sitting their southern shiva unshaven stoned and drunk they roll away the boulder before their tomb enter the hallways to find the puzzled stares of those others in the dorm this dorm populated with exiles nay interlopers from new york new jersey miami cleveland ron and hoss outsiders in their own state

these trespassers can not gather the depth of their loss ron and hoss make no attempt to explain hell

a simple man he don't need them around anyhow

ron and hoss

american by birth southern by the grace of god

goddamn

these pussies who listen to those faggots billy joel and paul simon repackaged lounge lizards whose mommas also probably most likely wiped their asses as well

how can they understand when ron and hoss can barely grok the shifting of the winds how can any of them know that the old freak who parks himself daily on the uptown corner right there where ponce meets peachtree like out of some comic strip an old hippie an old man holding the sign declaring the end of world how can he know such truths

such prescience frightens and humbles ron johnson

they these guys n his dorm they don't even know don't understand that ron and hoss could give a shit about flight kay ay el double oh seven about the fucking war in ethiopia about israel and egypt about israel and lebanon these guys who can't understand what ron and hoss know that israel invading lebanon matters about as much as karl wallenda taking that last and fatal fall from the high wires shit happens you buy the ticket you take the ride you build a house out there in the desert some strong wind gonna come down blow you around

Jesup, Part the Seventh

ron and his momma step standing gazing out over the bit of well kept official looking lawn stretching down to the street new brunswick street that tees into cavendish square this wayne county courthouse lawn this lawn where last summer the end of last summer the night before he was taking off for school

sweet sweet sally

she who is so so sweet

after he had been hanging with his friends some of whom were going to altamaha technical college some of whom were going down the road to georgia southern some headed off to the university most just hanging around trying to find jobs maybe a little logging maybe a little farming

hanging around lying about the good old days

hanging out down in the clearing out by the river just outside of town cars trucks pulled up and off into the dark an old tire burning low its rubbery fuel melting into flame its steel belt sparkling molten red before turning a dull dull black

just a bunch of boys with beers and joints

kicking the tire every now and then

sparks sailing up into the darkness framing their faces the scraggly growth on their cheeks and chin their shaggy frizzy stringy bushy hair some held in place by a hat a cap sporting the wayne county yellow jacket or some sort of tractor or chewing tobacco some just flying free along with their freak flag

most wearing tee shirts everyone of them wearing jeans

most of those levis

passing joints sipping something talking story

hey remember when johnny gee drove his truck down into the pond took the left when he should have taken the right took us all night to handwench that fucker out yeah remember when bobby ben was driving his truck down twenty seven drunk as a cooter remember he took out all them mailboxes just out of pure meanness that big old grill guard on that big green monster heh yeah hadn't been for those boxes he might have gone on off into the drainage ditch might have turned that fucker over heh we had a few that night hey remember when sammy steve took all them ludes and picked a fight with those waycross boys he got the shit kicked out of his redneck self yeah but he got in a few shots they left with a few marks

yeah

hey remember when donny dee shot himself in the head with that shotgun when that girl broke his heart

yeah

remember when

yeah