If, on a bright, already hot morning

Some summer in Texas in 1974,

You happen to be out barefoot in the long, sandy rows,

Hoeing the Careless Weeds away,

So the green, leafy, little peanut plants can grow,

Maybe like me, you will think to lie down

And look up into the sky,

To see how long it might take

For the buzzards to come circle you.

And if they don't,

Maybe you, like me,

Will come to see,

To really believe,

It must be because you are alive.

-jenn