“jolene, jolene, jolene, jolene…”
dolly parton belted away

i sped past a field
another field
horses whipped their tails in a fury

i sung along,
“jolene, jolene, jolene, jolene…”

the sky was menacing
and finally opened up,
cried onto my windshield
my wipers worked double time

a sticky kind of rain,
where the air is so warm and humid
that it feels like a fleece blanket;
the best kind of rain

i pulled onto the shoulder
and danced up and down the yellow lines
because that’s just what you do
in this kind of rain

“jolene, jolene, jolene, jolene…”
dolly parton serenaded me
as i put on a show
for lazy cows and wayward dogs

and i screamed along with the song
“you could have your choice of men
but i could never love again
he’s the only one for me, jolene”*
the rain and my dancing
became an entangled, erratic mess

as i pulled away, wet and cold,
i ejected the CD that he made for me,
threw it out the window
and ran it over
three times, for good measure

i ******* hate jolene