Top Heavy
Dolly had no idea
that she’d run into
Jolene at the service
station that gorgeous
June afternoon. April
had seen a flurry of
electrical storms
and more than
Nashville’s fair
share of spinning
winds.
(“Time...,”
thought all of the
blondes in Arizona.)
“Beans and ham for
dinner tonight,”
Dolly wondered,
adjusting herself.
A bee alighted
upon the tip of
the nozzle as
Jolene pulled
to a stop directly
on the other side
of Dolly’s pump.
(“Wind...,”
expected
California
at that very
moment.)
Have you ever
once caught
Dolly biting
her nails?
“Your finger,
it’s bleeding!”
I tried. A
bullethole
at the base
of the wind-
ow between
here and there.
