on my way to the IGAflickered light on my windshield and a relentless squeak on the driver side
more cars on the "for sale" lot; now assorted boats and towing rigs
those with less feel it more and first
rural america tells the tale the news does not
i returned with Trout to the spot on the lake from last month
same family was on the piney point
this is not a vacation this is home for as long as it can be
tacky plastics littered the campsite and clothes hung from limbs
the children bedraggled and suspicious
not much was spent at the art benefit last night
many works of art found no patron and no home
the auctioneers pleaded and the schtick was forced
the crowd even thinner than last years thin
at the farmers market people spoke low
like dissidents, like conspirators
people the news says are a growing domestic problem
you know, people who distrust the Fed?
problem people in trucks with birdhouses
and squash and daylillies and baked breads
talking about the tightening noose
the massive taxes pending and ideas for controlling more
im not the only one
theres a lot of me now
the lot of me now are those who wont postpone
whatever it was they were postponing
because the now is all there is
and though
we may have read that somewhere
its not just pages anymore
now its fading parents and its
crystal
halfway to Copperhill a white dog trotted along the road
and drew my attention to the graveyard
with a spectacular view of the Big Frog
smokey hazy summer blues
gardens and white framed church houses
the apple house with fried pies and hay rides
the Oz of former copper mines loomed
at the curve
the state line
where beer can be purchased even on sunday
they say during the mining
this forest
was the moon
acid rain hates greenery
and workers
standing empty and tall the rusted death star
the Intertrade plant
overlooked a pool hall, a mexican restaurant and a dollar general
and confederate flags
with pit bulls in the middle
the collars read "dixie"
Trout swam the Toccoa
shared flow with weekend tubers and kayakers
she tired of it and jumped into the truck bed
the signal for ready to go
tourists from the train roamed the street
i sucked on a cherry limeade
and watched them from the IGA parking lot
taking pictures of a painted line
one side georgia
the other side tennessee
like dawn of the dead
the fathers day version
flickering light again
and the driver side squeak
i held it
and rode in silence
***********
PS: i did not make it to the top ten in the dog
wine label contest. thanks though, to everyone who voted.
i really appreciate that!! xoxoxox