On the Come Back Through

sitting on the steps

of my country store

where the dirt meets

the hard road

rolling a Prince Albert

and the barefoot boy

comes right along

hoe on his shoulder

stops whistling long enough

to look me in the eye

while rubbing his nickel

and dime in his pocket

and says, “I aint thirsty, yet

but I’ll be getting a cold soda

on the come back through.”