NC Literary Hall of Fame



A man with a pockmarked face,
jittery blue eyes,
thin greased hair that won’t stay back says to me,
This is crazy, ain’t it.

I nod and smile.
He adds, I heard the South
will be completely out in a week.

Eyeing my Prius, he asks,
What can you get out of that thing for real?

Fifty, I answer.

Shit! That’s a damned good car, he says.

We like it, I tell him.
We’ve always liked Toyotas.
They never break down.

Looking around, he says,
What are people gonna do?

Stay home, I guess, I chuckle,
flash my most reassuring smile.

After a pause, he says,
Give 'em another week.
They’ll be killing each other.

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