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DRAG THE LAKE from the collection “Choreography”
Martin’s got the stars & stripes waving from his truck. It’s bigger than his cab. Without the wind to make it fly, the damn thing just looks sad. His left brake light’s out, we’ve been behind him for miles, all down route 34. Dottie left him years ago, then she moved next door. “Drag the lake” the sheriff said. “Who knows what we’ll find?” Margie’s hand grew so cold as it sank away in mine. “What about the boyfriend?” he asked. I said, “Jake’s at LSU.” I couldn’t even believe my ears; he was the sweetest boy I knew. But both of their shirts were wrinkled when they’d come down to dinner. I guess every man’s a saint, and every man’s a sinner. Why do these thoughts haunt me like a spirit? If you’ve got an answer, I’d like to hear it. Traffic light at Carleton ave is out as we pull up. I look left and almost get creamed by a pick-up truck. It’s been four days now and five nights and Marge aint said a word. The mail’s in a pile on the floor and the milk has started to turn. I pull over to the side of road, weird things in my chest. Moving silent, dragging their feet, like crippled ghosts I guess. We were supposed to meet the sheriff, but because of Martin, now we’re late. I take my foot off the brake, but don’t accelerate. This morning I tried to read the paper, poured myself a drink. Mouth was dry, words didn’t make sense. Lord, why must all your creatures sink?
Written by Ryan J. Tressel
RJT: All instruments
Recorded August 2007
