The african violets on the table, an inuslin bag and half full water glasses before people I don't know, htose half relatives gripping their yough they pass around clockwise in grins, the Buick dealer, smiling. They're playing mommy, auntie, doing the whole thing up in this grayframe building, trying to figure out arrangements. It's like we're all still kids at Maw Maw's house gathered around a plastic table eating dressing--no turkey 'cause we're picky like weeks old scabs of old snow--but with attachments. WE want the half-fenced yards and astroturfs and fraying fringes of a Mary Kay town.
No comments:
Post a Comment