Go South Forever
Kelly a. Jones
Something dreamlike about it: the ooze
and slime and jungle-growth, the heat that lasts until November.
In winter it’s different; you can see the road, and beyond – the sugar cane fires,
a great brown river, dead animals and abandoned cars.
Go one way and you’d wind up in Alabama.
Go the other way and you’ll fall off in it.
“Yes sir,” I responded. Already I have told more lies
then I believed myself capable of inventing.
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