Cottonwood (5)

Henry gives the gas pedal the gun,

accelerates into the hot rising sun.

Up there on the right by that oil pump

would be fine, I’ll walk from there.

He don’t stop though, turns onto

the dusty lane running out

through the scabby alkaline flats

to clusters of thrown together

houses and shacks, where a few scraggly

cottonwoods lend their name to the place.

Which one is it, he asks, as they pass

folks eyeing his dark low slung ride.

This one she says, and he pulls into

a weedy yard with an unpainted 

board and batten, tarpaper-roofed house,

with a screen door hanging crooked,

a couple of chickens scratching for bugs,

picking at corncobs, gravel and seeds.

Thanks, Henry, you’re a good-hearted man.

I don’t know about that, I just don’t

like redneck trash bothering gals,

it hasn’t made me too many pals.

Yeah, I imagine it don’t, I appreciate

you stepping in like you did,

now I better be gettin’ inside,

Loretta, my cousin is probably frettin’.

What time does your shift start, Ruthie?

My shift at the hospital? eleven. why?

I’ll be here tonight, at quarter til then.

That’s really unnecessary, I don’t need a lift.

I think it is, there’s things you don’t know.

Listen Henry, I told you, I take care of myself.

You think this the first time I had to deal

with dirty rednecks like him?

Oh, I don’t doubt it, but prob’ly

not as nasty as Smith. He’s done time.

For what? -About what you’d expect.

Raped a girl up in Fresno. Did two years for that.

Woulda done more, but it was right after the war

and he’d just got out of the Marines.

Purple heart and a chest full of ribbons

from fighting on Guadalcanal. Big war hero.

Uh huh, so he thought he was entitled

to some free pussy, that about right?

Yeah, you got it, that’s how it went,

and she was a colored girl too.

Oh yeah? I’m surprised he did any time at all.

stuff like that, mostly don’t even get to a trial.

I’m sure I don’t have to tell you ‘bout that,

but this was too much, even for Fresno,

and Oildale and Bakersfield are much worse.

They wouldn’t touch Gus if he put you in a hearse.

I know that, so I never go up to Oildale,

it’s a sundown town, know what that is?

Yeah, I’ve seen the signs at the edge of the town.

You see? Nobody from Cottonwood even

goes there at noon, let alone after dark,

and I have no reason to go anywhere near.

That’s the thing, Ruthie, Oildale will be

coming to you. Smith will be looking.

Okay Henry, you win, just for tonight,

I’ll be here at quarter til eleven, I promise.

Alright then. Good night ....Good morning.

.....whatever this is, Ruthie Brown.

Good night is just fine, Henry Nalbandian,

feels like two different nights just ended.

Ruthie slides out of the car, the chickens

scurry out of her path. A dirty boot print

stamped on the back of her dress

where Augustus Smith left his mark.

Loretta peers out through the screen door

clutching her thin satin robe at the throat.

Where you been, girl? Who is that white boy?

What are you doin’ in his car? I been worried sick.

I’m fine. That’s Henry. He helped me out.

Helped you outta what, who is he?

I’ll tell you all about it. Right now I just want

to get cleaned up. Would you put on some water?

She turns back and waves through the door,

Henry waves back and backs out of the yard,

heads down the road to the highway.

A mockingbird flies up from the weeds, 

to the powerlines lining the blacktop.

Sings his birdsong version of the squeaks

and the clatter of the nodding donkey wells

bobbing in unsynchronized time by the street.