I am somewho perched and belted high in the passenger seat of a company man's company car.
At a corner, we drive by the woman who raises turkeys and chickens from a shack near here. She's the one with an East German car up on blocks being a henhouse or a doghouse, the woman who keeps a husband in the country to watch her cows. She is headed downtown on foot now in a good mauve dress. She looks clean and has probably scrubbed hell out of her gnails. She isn't as old as she is when she stands in chickens.
I mention the woman as we go by, but my driver, who is also from here, doesn't see her and doesn't know anything about a woman or chickens and turkeys. Now he's on his phone and I fade out. He has fires to put out, bugs to eliminate, builds and patches to get out the door. And I'm strapped in.