Well, you wake up in the mornin’, you hear the work bell ring
And they march you to the table to see the same old thing
Ain’t no food upon the table, and no pork up in the pan
But you better not complain, boy, you get in trouble with the man
(Traditional folk song / John Fogerty)
Another work week conquered. Barely.
“I try to be good,” he said. His droopy eyes were almost closed, and I decided to leave him there for the night. The sky was wide and bruised with stars, and a cool breeze was curling its tail around the porch. I would bring him a blanket and a pillow for his head; he was too big to coax into a bed. “I got a temper,” he said, and it almost turned into a snore. His eyes snapped open for a moment. “I don’t know where it comes from. My old man, probably, he had a temper. I tamp it down best I can, but the stove fills up with smoke too quick….”
Excerpt from A Very Tall Summer – Coming Soon
Ordinary Handsome 