Today's Tom Sawyer
Yesterday, I went with my family to eat blue-plate buffet in Murfreesboro in an old house converted into a restaurant. It was my brother's birthday. I stuffed myself crazy: mashed potatoes, asparagus, a variety of slaws and salads, hot wings, catfish, banana pudding, coconut pie, and ... a coffee to keep me somewhat alert for the 3-hour drive home.
As I drove into Nashville on the interstate, listening to the Whatever soundtrack, the sun was cutting at that pre-dusk angle that highlights halves of faces and puts shine in the eyes. My window was down and my arm was hanging out. There was a faint smell of field grains in the air. I was passing through the girdle of the capital of country music, just about to enter 640.
On the right was a wide, white pickup truck. Soaped into its windows was this: Drag King. I was instantly giddy through the drug of food and music and half-light. Corny as it is, I sidled up beside them to see a damn good-looking queer, maybe Latin, facial piercing, half-turned cap, white T with rolled-up sleeves, and the widest, widest smile, arm cocked at a slant, wrist hanging over the steering wheel.
I honked my little horn and gave 'em an inane thumbs up. They grinned ear to ear, nodded approval, and returned the gesture. Sometimes, you have to love how the South comes along.
As I drove into Nashville on the interstate, listening to the Whatever soundtrack, the sun was cutting at that pre-dusk angle that highlights halves of faces and puts shine in the eyes. My window was down and my arm was hanging out. There was a faint smell of field grains in the air. I was passing through the girdle of the capital of country music, just about to enter 640.
On the right was a wide, white pickup truck. Soaped into its windows was this: Drag King. I was instantly giddy through the drug of food and music and half-light. Corny as it is, I sidled up beside them to see a damn good-looking queer, maybe Latin, facial piercing, half-turned cap, white T with rolled-up sleeves, and the widest, widest smile, arm cocked at a slant, wrist hanging over the steering wheel.
I honked my little horn and gave 'em an inane thumbs up. They grinned ear to ear, nodded approval, and returned the gesture. Sometimes, you have to love how the South comes along.