Going Back A Spell

I grew up here, in my little town.

Up until the 7th grade, that is; when my voice cracked, hair grew in funny places and I went to town and saw my first movie on the side of the courthouse…

I haven’t seen you, home…for nigh on 35 years, I think.

My little League field is still there but, I remember the Centerfield wall was at least a mile deeper….and the bleachers only hold tens, not thousands of fans, like I imagined.

The building I got busted for shooting spitballs at passersby out of the 2nd floor window has been boarded up and is probably haunted, now….

I wonder if that old Coca-Cola cooler is still in there…

The high school is now the middle school.

I couldn’t even find the elementary school; all I found was a Dollar General and a Rite Aid…
Why do I feel like I’m being raped?

There is a big chicken processing plant just down the road and my down town smells like blood and guts when it’s hot and humid.

It’s hot and humid today…It’s always like that in the hot months; March thru March.

The big, smelly chicken killing corporate entity wasn’t here when I was here as a lad. We always went to Cagles in Pine Mountain to catch the loose chickens and turn them into free range eggs and dumplings.

Nothing looks the same here; it looks so small and poor, so….southern Georgia.

Wow, there’s Mr Teeks Liquor store; ha! He’s still got a big rebel flag hanging out front by the road and a sign on the door telling folks to pull up their pants.

Poor, Mr. Teek; he’s black and like, 1000 years old, don’t you know. I find his show of independence and liberty as a business owner offensive.

He calls me, that “Clarke boy” I say “Yessir” not nigger.

Mr Teek ain’t no nigger…
He just be, Missa Teek.

There’s cudzu everywhere and all the cars have the patina of red clay dirt roads.

I remember my home town being so much bigger…full of wonder, people and noise.

Its been 35 years or so since I explored the darkest jungles and mysterious caves of my childhood home; a different world…full of hostile Cherokee and renegade Yankees.

Yes, it’s different now…
It’s quiet and no one is on the streets.
Probably in the house under the AC on the computer writing a stupid blog or posting on Facebook.

Nothing to do outside, anymore, I guess. There’s trees, creeks, arrowheads and bugs and shit….

Now, for me it seems, there’s only fading memories and the smell of blood, guts and progress here….