DOVES COO OUT across the distance and a bell rings from an ice cream cart off down another street. The house hums its quiet afternoon electronic knowledge. By contrast, I don't know a thing, still groggy from a ten-minute nap. Carried Waylon room-to-room last night, 4 a.m. He was gassy and not burping 'til later when finally he curled into Hoa, reaching with his mouth for her breast. Now he sleeps with K. Hoa pays bills. African-American men work on a truck engine across the street in the humid air. Last night a storm hit with wide blue lightning flashes and rain streaked headlights with nearly horizontal yellow sheets. I wanted K to sleep, as the movement of the car often encourages this. The pounding rhythm came down hard, the road barely visible. Branches fell and water pooled up orange and dirty by a stop sign under one old oak in French Place and the tail lights and head lights of cars dashed out suddenly illuminating signals through the wet reflecting moving surfaces of the animated streets. K's eyes closed slowly, his head dropping to his shoulders. Now someone cranks up R & B through car speakers, the heavy bass line beating out sexy rhythms. The grass grows thick and green, children sleeping, bills paid. Hardly notice the black stone round my neck.
Posted by Dale at May 6, 2004 08:42 PM