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Down a distant country road
Lined with hickory and oak
Sits an old weathered house
Its roof wreathed in gauzy smoke

Wash flaps on the line
Hound dogs rest in the shade
Kids shimmy up a walnut tree
Wearing clothes handmade

Mama stands on the porch
Daddy towers at her side
Unconditional love in their eyes
Welcoming arms open wide

Here’s my baby,
Daddy says with a grin
We’ve been waiting for you, Mama adds
Supper’s ready, come on in

I close my eyes, take a final breath
My heart no more shall roam
I leave the road, pass through the gate
At last…at last…I’m home

Photo from Pixabay

 

Gray Matter

file3951306369420Leroy knew he was dead, dead as a frickin’ sail-cat. Why, his busted up body lay right there with the whole top of his head caved in, blood and gray stuff smearing the trunk of a big old oak. No way a body could still be breathing after taking a hit like that.
But the peculiar thing was that he could see himself. And his black Thunderbird. She wasn’t the waxed and buffed beauty he’d slid in outside Dale’s Hideout; she now rested belly-up twixt him and the highway, as banged up as he was. His pride and joy. How long had it taken him and Betty to make her purr like a kitten and look as pretty as a shiny new dollar? Three years? Four?
If he’d had lips to do it with, Leroy would’ve smiled right then and there as he recalled the countless nights him and Betty had spent out in the old shed after they’d both gotten off work, him with his head under the hood and Betty handing him tools. Him telling her about the dumb shit the guys at work had done and laughing about it, and her smiling that funny little smile of hers. Continue reading