SPEAKING ON SUNDAYS
Like a preacher on speed, I babble:
Rectitude and Fortitude and all that
meager motivating; using elongated
words to make the matters matter.
Or seem to. My congregation nods.
-
Hard to keep them skimming when
they want to sink. I always see a few
heads drooping; the slow downward
drop of Ed Farner's mechanical head; or
Stacy Kramer's seamstress-eyes dozing.
-
I remember her when she was 12; now a
woman all her own. Old Marna Foxworth,
the town's lady-crank, seems always awake,
ready to strike me down for something amiss
I may mention. Like a hawk without meat
for days, she pulverizes anything near.
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