City Man

I was in the barn when a car drove up. A nice car. Didn’t know what brand it was but it was shiny. Didn’t know why it was here either, but I couldn’t help watch it. Stood out in its red against all the beige-ish Fall. Managed an eye on the license as it got ready to stop; it read New York, but I knew it wasn’t my New York. From the city. Tires left a good print in the ground—one I knew’d stay—as they parked. Driver seemed in a hurry—‘cus an ironed suit pushed out the left door in a fast way. The way you would if you were gettin’ goin’ somewhere. That suit vaulted past last summer’s harvest; went to my door and knocked with 5 polished knuckles. He waited for a good second ‘till he got to rocking his dress shoes side-to-side and back-and-forth. He glared at his dressed-up driver who glared at him and they were all disappointed-lookin.’ Didn’t know why they were so rushed. Nothin’ here happens quick. 

They hadn’t even stopped to notice me all enamored behind ‘em. Still, Mr. Suit got ready to twist my door open before he saw me sweatin’ with rake in-hand. Then his switch flipped. Instead, a clean shaven smile answered my gaze. That smile was real wide so I could see that most his teeth, ‘cept the pearly front ones, were piss-yellow. He kept up the smile with nary a word then outstretched hand then gripped mine then shook hard. Three shakes that felt almost slippery. Like he didn’t want anybody to get too close. He talked real fast. In between, he chuckled a bit. I didn’t know what was funny. I bet he read somewhere that chuckles—that that’s good for gettin’ going somewhere. I was wondering where he was plannin’ on goin.’ Since he spoke in this way I’d only seen on TV.

Ezra is a ninth grader at Lafayette High School’s SCAPA Literary Arts. Ezra is the Finance Director for High School Democrats of America, and he aspires to elected the Governor of Kentucky. He brings a skill set framed around a drive to affect change in Kentucky, and he channels that through his writing.