Life begins on rural rt. 9
richard perkins
away back when, in sw arkansas
she lived on
one of the high, dark ridges
near an old slave boneyard -
and in winter even the good cars
couldn't make it up
the unpaved, unplowed hill.
so when it came time
for the jr. high x-mas formal,
she and her
half twin step brother once removed
hiked down the slope
out to the main road
carrying their all-occasion finest threads,
and stood watch for each other
as they changed behind rob's general store.
she remembers waiting
at the edge of a white road
in a hand-me-further-down dress,
eyes straining to make out
any car familiar in the dimming distance,
and now she wonders
why she can't seem to recall
who she danced with that night
or even
if she danced at all.
