at the dish
, i was brave. instead of my usual chicken 'n dumplins, i tried something new. it was the meatloaf, if you're wondering, with garlic mashed potatoes, collard greens, deviled egg, a biscuit, and, what by meal's end must have been, a gallon of sweet tea. the jen(n)s and i sat in a dark green booth, right by the front door, eyeing kitschy mismatched plates hanging on the walls. whenever someone came in, the wind would hold the door open until one of the waitresses would run over and fix it. that's why jenn was cold most of the night. a few times, when the staff was busy, she got up to fix the door herself.
just as i was finishing dinner, a family was leaving. some kid, a little husky and very like-me-at-that-age, passed my table, proudly holding his green-tinted coke bottle just high enough for us to see that he had it and how cool it was. when i was small, i'd do things like that.
on long trips, from my vantage point in the backseat, i'd watch my father's left arm hanging out the window, fascinated with the way the wind would ruffle his shirt sleeve like a flag, and later, when i got to sit up front, i'd move my right arm forward and back and maybe a little further out the window, so that my sleeve would do the same thing. when i finally got it, my arm would lock into place and my eyes would raise to meet the people in the cars next to ours, and, sure that they were looking at my sleeve, i'd think, 'yeah, you know that's cool.'
: the lathe of heaven
: the 6ths 'heaven in a black leather jacket'
: kerry layeth the smackdown