Lost Language


Lost: Like pearls on a pig, I lost my country drawl, my ease of slow-talking people. My ease of doing nothing instead of something. Adding sugar to it until it’s right.

Shoot a mile if I can’t find it in my mother’s purse, those pearls of wisdom like ‘shit’ and ‘bitchin’, and calling a spade a straight up spade! Sometimes I don’t know what the hell I’m talking about, but I want to call it like I see it again.

Prompted by my new book, 642 Things to Write About, and my recent visit with my parents.


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