We needed gas.
Pulled over in Louisiana, it was a busy little overpass.
I looked up, and in disbelief saw the sign, little chamber
buttons and sure enough, the name of the place where I
was born, Denham Springs.
I could not abide the coincidence. I had seen miles of Mississippi
and the overhangs necessary in the South to not bake but let in
the evangeline breezes.
Sunset fire in Baltimore. This was no random stop-
So I asked the clerk in the quick-n-shop
"do you mind if I ask you a question."
"sure" she said
"well," I said with as much tenderness as I could,
"I was born here. And I don't know anything about this place.
can you tell me in one or two sentences what it's like?"
She thought. For a good spell. Enough time for me to size
her up. A teenager. "It sucks" I was sure I'd hear. But no!
"It's just like the Andy Griffith Show. With more busybodies."
I stood transfixed. Hot damn.
"... And an antique row that used to be Main Street.
And there's the high school
there down the road, and the junior high over there. Shoot, my
Dad and I had the same chemistry teacher, and they still talk. It's
a miracle. Cause he burned all his tables in the lab..."
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