i came up from the rocks with a cigarette all burning in my hand
The hot air buffeted my long hair and my face was long from looking down
the dirt and dust and dry plants from the mississippi recoiling crunch under my feet
Like a spectre a man walked in the distance toward my path and I squint in the heat rays
And stop and turn so as not to pass
Wishing to be left alone
But he stopped and smiled at me nonetheless
His skin shining in the sun and his cross earring glinting
“Where the fish at?” he asks cheerfully. I look around and brush the hair from my face.
“Hiding.” I say. He laughs at me.
“You on your way out?” He has a jaunty step as he puts his hands in his pockets and gleefully makes his way towards the River.
“Yeah,” I say, turning to face him fully. Something magnetic.
“Alright now, You have a great day!” the man gives a memphis goodbye wave and goes to revere our great river.
As I leave I wonder if this spirit has saved me, has appeared in my time of need. I felt one with the River and the rocks and the dust and considered laying in the southern dirt for drying out, but dosed with life I feel the energy and the light and the music taking me back to the green grass and back in the direction of home.
I hope he saw the fish.