After Father died,
she left home on the morning of Easter Grace. She told me, “son, I’ll see ya. Won’t you be a good boy, and just stay?” "Tell me, why are you leaving?" I think she couldn’t stand to see his face. She told me on the steps, “boy, don’t you sleep through the gorgeous days."
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firstly, your style is wildly original. I really like that. the dialogue is a bit weird, but this might be a period piece. anyhow, props on the originality.
Foster Child,
come and stay a little while, and you best say your morning's Grace. Jesus Christ didn’t save your life so that you could go and throw it away. He don't need no heathen, child. Go sit in your corner and think. Don’t make me hit ya now. Good little boys obey.
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interesting stanza. the subject matter really feels from the industrial age. but im intrigued for sure.
Won’t ya tell me there, Teacher,
won't ya tell me there's a War in the States? Tell me bout our leader that the Good Lord born to be great. I only know I don’t need ya. No, ya only want me to conform to your tastes. I don’t need no job neither. You best believe I’m worth more than you think.
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ah, civil war era? coming together nice now. this segment in particular reminded me of Pink Floyds welcome to the machine.
From couch to couch,
I made my miles baking in the Georgian haze. She was from Oklahoma. Told me those boys only wanted to play. She only knows she don't dance anymore. She was concerned more with the drink. Pointing at the jukebox, she said, “A quarter’s worth more in the bank.”
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this is why you called it quarter, nice. are the four segments meant to represent a dollar or am I reaching at this point?
overall, was an enjoyable read. kept things interesting for sure. nice short drop. wasnt mad at it at all.
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