They sat on the front porch
and observed the world,
looked down on the street where
The cars moved like bees:
quick.
It was so hot that the air danced and swirled,
like a shaky hand was tryin’ to hold it
still.
While she was fanning, the other
one said,
When you gonna get married, girl?
When a murderer dies and goes t’ heaven.
says the fanner.
That’ll be never.
Yep.
The air stuck like molasses, and
Jackie sat on the edge of the porch,
spittin’ watermelon seeds. The noise of ’em
bein’ shot to the ground,
like little
bullets,
mixed with the rhythm of the
woodpecker.
Seeds. Woodpeckers. Background for life.
Jackie picked up a piece of stray
newspaper that was wanderin’
like a
tramp.
Jackie read the movie ads.
There’s only silly thangs playin’ at the
cinema anymore, huh? Jackie asked
the fanner.
Yep.
Light sunk into dark. Woodpecker
flew away,
Jackie fell
asleep.
Day ended.
Dragonflies and lightnin’
bugs
flew ’round, searchin for
somethin’ they could not
find.
The Southern heat
stayed.