He must have banged down out of the Big Sky,
and he must have hit hard
and rattled out all his teeth.
The black hole in his face said
"I'm from Oklahoma."
and I understood him.
"I'm from Kentucky, " I drawled
and the hole said "For real?" and chuckled
as if he knew the Dark and Bloody Ground.
The hole rambled on about
an old woman and a frog and
I realized I should be laughing.
The hole smelled like cheap,
Tennessee sour mash and
I shied away as he spoke Okie at me.
He sounded like Appalachia and lonely,
he looked like a dry river bed
and he had lightning bugs in his eyes.
He got up from the table and
went back to the doorstoop.
Some pork rinds disappeared
into the hole.
I must have looked like home to him,
must have seemed like a fishpond
or a sparrow nest, or maybe
an ear of corn off the stalk.
I should have laughed at
the old woman and the frog.
I should have said "For real?"
Later, when he vacated the stoop
he called out as he passed by my shoulder
"Good Luck, Kentucky!"
and I hollered back,
"'Night Oklahoma!"
one time i said to jack...
"i just like to picture you sleepin up there in that park
on Russian Hill, Jack, with the stars for a blanket and
wakin up with the birds singin."
and he says back to me...
"Try picturin me sleepin over there in that doorway
why don'tcha, cause that's where I'M sleepin and that's
what I'M talkin 'bout!" heh heh.
