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Her parentage was a thing of considerable comment Though a good deal less circumspection, Mama's identity relatively sure, as everyone knew her mama, Her father one of a laundry list of unpromising gardeners, Yet she was a child of grace--no, more than that An outlier in every sense of the word, The dazzling unintended consequence Resulting from a series of unwise and unhappy choices. She sauntered (though there are those romantically inclined sorts Who would insist she outright floated, Her feet rarely if ever touching ground) By the courthouse in Okolona most afternoons, And though her dress was from the house of Ralston and Purina And her jewelry courtesy of Sailor Jack and Bingo, She neither shrunk nor slunk self-consciously Nor walked with eyes ablaze and fists clenched, In a manner asking Mebbe you wanna make sumpin' of it? Simply walked her own walk, Such things as poverty and pedigree Trvial matters beneath her concern, Though she was always provided for, as a seemingly chosen child, Judge Hibbard giving her a store-bought doll from Jackson When she turned seven, others providing her pop and bubble gum, And later Miss Lucille Brisker sewed her a bright-blue silk dress Plus gave her forty-two dollars for a Greyhound ticket To Los Angeles via New Orleans (When she hopped the bus in front of the K &B, She gave her a peck on the cheek, and said *Miss Lucille, you take care, but I doubt I'm much likely to pass this way again.*) Her whys and wherefores after that were lost to time and tide: Perhaps she made it in L-A, perhaps she thought else-wise And hopped off the bus in Hattiesburg or Bogalusa Though most were of the opinion that it mattered little if at all, As she allowed them, leastways for a little while, To be in her orbit while she shone in such a manner as pleased her.
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Mar 26, 2018
Mar 26, 2018 at 4:27 PM UTC
wk-kortas
A Variation Upon Bobbie Gentry's "Chickasaw County Child"
Her parentage was a thing of considerable comment Though a good deal less circumspection, Mama's identity relatively sure, as everyone knew her mama, Her father one of a laundry list of unpromising gardeners, Yet she was a child of grace--no, more than that An outlier in every sense of the word, The dazzling unintended consequence Resulting from a series of unwise and unhappy choices. She sauntered (though there are those romantically inclined sorts Who would insist she outright floated, Her feet rarely if ever touching ground) By the courthouse in Okolona most afternoons, And though her dress was from the house of Ralston and Purina And her jewelry courtesy of Sailor Jack and Bingo, She neither shrunk nor slunk self-consciously Nor walked with eyes ablaze and fists clenched, In a manner asking Mebbe you wanna make sumpin' of it? Simply walked her own walk, Such things as poverty and pedigree Trvial matters beneath her concern, Though she was always provided for, as a seemingly chosen child, Judge Hibbard giving her a store-bought doll from Jackson When she turned seven, others providing her pop and bubble gum, And later Miss Lucille Brisker sewed her a bright-blue silk dress Plus gave her forty-two dollars for a Greyhound ticket To Los Angeles via New Orleans (When she hopped the bus in front of the K &B, She gave her a peck on the cheek, and said *Miss Lucille, you take care, but I doubt I'm much likely to pass this way again.*) Her whys and wherefores after that were lost to time and tide: Perhaps she made it in L-A, perhaps she thought else-wise And hopped off the bus in Hattiesburg or Bogalusa Though most were of the opinion that it mattered little if at all, As she allowed them, leastways for a little while, To be in her orbit while she shone in such a manner as pleased her.
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