peaches

do you know
where the water tower is,
the man
in a straw hat
and smoking a pipe says
while bending over
to lean into my
car window
to give me directions.
no,
I tell him.
I can smell whiskey on his
breath
pipe tobacco.
his wife
or daughter is on the side
of the road
selling tomatoes and peaches
under the overhang
of a wooden
shack.
how about
the bull farm, he says,
scratching the grey stubble
on his long
chin. do you know where that
is, because if you do,
it's just a left a right
and another left
and you're back on the interstate
heading north.
you seem like you might
be heading north.
I am, I tell him.
how much are the peaches?
hon, bring me over basket
of them peaches.
she does that. coming out of
the shadow into the hot sun.
there's a tattoo on her arm
that says earl,
it looks like it's covering
another tattoo.
take one he says. on me.
so I do. be careful, these peaches
are juicy she says,
winking, don't want to get
any on your shirt.
good luck with the driving,
the man says.
thanks earl I tell him
and pull off looking for
the bull farm.