Appalachian American Ennui: May 2021

A juke box in a beer joint off Brainerd road was home to Tanlgled Up in Blue, by Bob Dylan. I used to go there for that singular opportunity. And alchol. And a universe of other reasons. Vicky Simmons and I were sitting adjacent in a booth when I realized that I was on a date with a young woman who used drugs. This was before Cocaine Jane. She pulled a blue and white capsule from her purse and washed it down with a cold pint, as I watched, like a smiling child. As the little boy's hand moved up to that part of her glorious leg, where tan stopped. Shorts in midsummer. The universe has, in the word's of Al Gore, Sr., at one of my commencements, made me "full of memories."