15 January 2007. Haloed sun in blue winter sky. Yesterday, early: large woman in layers of coats, small shopping cart, slumped back asleep in Starbuck's lounge chair--undisturbed. Images of the South: cotton field, plantation house, the river. Parchman Farms and Sugarland--the names pretty much covering the spread. A google search shows they've been turned into bands--strange phenomenon, this willful inversion. "From prison farm to play list," something like that. Midnight Special, for instance. Paul's outrage, years ago, at its neutralization as a cityboy song--whitened up, middle class. As opposed to the moaning trials of the run from Memphis to Chicago. And even more: lone window against nighttime sky, a few stars, train whistle somewhere in the distance...
"...shine her light on me."
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