i wonder at the things i get myself into, sometime.
don’t even remember signing up for this.
hell, i don’t even write on my own site anymore.
you see, y’all speak English, and here i just talk American.
and my grasp on that is bout as tenous as a gamblers
on his last paycheck. cause i’m southron.
not a yankee, no, i’m so southron compasses don’t work round me.
the arrow points,true, and it points true. it comes to point like a
birddog at a chicken house, it comes to a point like cupid outside
a Georgia sorority house.
points its shaking accusatory finger. down.
i am bilingual, now. i can speak yankee with the best.
hell, i can make yankee stand up, sit down, and fetch the prettiest girl
in the room. but it ain’t my mothers tongue.
what we speak, it’s elastic. it’s a tool down here and we stretch it
to fit. everthing is subservientsive to the story.
and here i am, talkin to furriners.
girl i know says i shouldn’t expect anything i say to make it crosst
all that water. that my talents don’t translate to the written word , anyway.
i don’t know as she’s right, but she’s so damn pretty it’s hard not to listen to
her when she talks.
but with the heat, and the humidility, even sweet nothings are florid.
rostand would have to sit in the second row here, we could teach cyrano
how to spell charm. immune to normal amounts, here, girls are. and women. Lord.
makes it easy everwhere else we go, but here. on a hot summer night, just talking.
she’s got to feel a cool breeze on her neck, without lifting her hair. and then you got to
pull down the night sky for a blanket.
lead to gold, and thence to silver. alchemy.
they say pretty much anythang is combustible in the proper concentrations.
and then they say most words are common.
we know that it isn’t trying to make the words burn.
it’s trying to keep them from burning the whole damn town down