A Shadow in Yucatan Read Online Free

me.
Belongs t’all of us...S’long Lisa...meet on Thursday Steph?
Now you be good, young man...Ok Josh, wowee, watch it, here she
comes...’

With a Truckee - Hitching
North
    ‘Bye bye Miss
American Pie
Drove ma Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry...
An good ole boys were drinkin whisky an rye
Singin this’ll be the day that I die... This’ll be....’
    ‘ Gum?’
    ‘ Thanks.’
    ‘ D’ya sing?’
    ‘ Why d’ya
ask?’
    ‘ Dunno. Helps
some.’
    Everglades
awash with saw-grass to the borders of peachy Georgia; the smoke
grey road cuts the water-flow.
It was laid by the card-sharper’s hand.
    ‘ Who would’ve
thought there was money in it?’
    ‘ There are always
them as do.’
    ‘ You would’ve had to
wan’it bad.’
    Yonder St
Augustine. Over the scales of the alligators into the arms of the
ladies with lace fans and satin caps...
    ‘ Whoops...easy
now... and the silver salver for the collection, our heritage an
all...
Pay no mind to the Seminoles...we pay ‘em fur the wrestlin...an
most of ’em are tame.’
    There are bird
hides out on the flats, for them as can stand the mosquitoes, the
ever murmuring midges...
To spy through the heat the spearing fish fowl, drying its
wheel-spoke wings.
    The spoonbill
imitates the sloth.
    The heron
simply blinks.

    Buzzards are
doggone dust in the eye, mayhap you’ll brown up a bear...
    The heat is a
white welt on the skin, and the silence a sting in the ear.
    'Whew...can you reach
me some ice from the bucket?’
    ‘ Sure. What you
gonna do?’
    ‘ I tie it around the
back of m’neck...y’git cool...y’also git wet...’
    ‘ Y’oughta get air
conditioning’
    ‘ Try tellin ‘em that
in Vermont.’
    T for
Tallahassee. If its neither chrome nor concrete,
it’s hibiscus or a swinging seat.
Evenings are blister crackers, cambric, cottage cheese.
    ‘ D’ya ever
stop?’
    ‘ Sure...bouta mile.
I’ll buy ya a sundae...D’ya like coffee ice-cream?’
    ‘ Prefer
pistachio...coffee’s ok’
    ‘ Pistachio looks
like peppermint...it’s a cheat...but y’have what y’want’
    Into blue-ridge
County, heat haze moonshine, and the mythical hillbilly boys, all
bib-tucker freckle, gawn t’ground in Nashville Tennessee...only the
sparse spine mountains, followin like pickpockets, kickin each
others heels.
    On the local
station, nuthin but down-beat denim, nasal as snot...
    ‘ Ah reckon Ah could
do as well.’
    ‘ Could you take that
kinda trouble?’
    ‘ Nah. Helps thinkin
y’could. Ah’m gonna pull off in a while and git me forty
winks’
    ‘ I’ll take a
walk’
    ‘ Watch out fer
rattlesnakes...’
    ‘ I ain’t planning to
get to Nevada’
    ‘ They ain’t the kind
I meant.’
    Vaulting down
from vantage height, she bites the two-bit dust.
    ‘ Shoulda warned
ya’
    ‘ I’m ok’
    ‘ Sure y’are’

    Into the scrub
forest where the giant shadow falls...
to raise the bracken battalions with their desiccated bows.
They release the tent-peg silence with one rising ringing
dove...
An abyss of cool acceptance, unquestioning as sleep, oblivion in
peeling bark, shedding the fixed grin...
Wet root, wet back, burying your face in green
    God is the
groin and armpit of tree,
(A chrysalis revolves on a thread)
His belly is the sweating earth,
His breast a nettle leaf.
Oh Sepulchre! Stone silence
    Maria, comfort
me...
    'C’mon let’s git. Five
hours should do it.’

Gethsemane
    ‘ Located conveniently in the suburbs’ it
said.
So it is, in this two-eyes-and-a-nose snivelling street, each eye
with its twitching lid.
    Special offer for you
lady, you and your yap-yap animated pipe cleaner, tarred about the
nose and ass...
    Is it only your
red-eyed dawg that weeps? Do you knit as we pass by?
Holy Mary...Mother of God... pray for me now and in the
hour...’
    Death? C’mon? Who said
anything about death?
    Twenty two,
buckle-my-shoe. That mini-brick incinerator ready for
count-down?
    That ain’t nuthin but
a postal depot for unclaimed mail, sorted and