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LIGHT SWEET CRUDE / Baine Kerr IN JANUARY IT never rains in Rio Jesus, so the storm had inspired, a shiver to a nailscratch by God. For days he'd worked without success reconfiguring the dish to try to capture some reception, from somewhere. Why should he want to go up again now and look at the blank visage of the antique 25-incher lashed to the rafters of the community shelter? It was getting dark fast and for no good reason he wandered out in the rain. Then he everybody edgy. Randall would later swear his restlessness was saw it at the head of the path, a weird light pulsing faintly in the gloaming. He quickened his step. At the shelter the light was playing on the walls of rain that poured off the tin roof. It danced on the glossy white hood of the Isuzu on blocks in a corner. It illuminated a lamb tethered to a post and an iguana behind the lamb. The lamb stared back in wonder. The iguana closed an audience, but there were only the animals and now Randall its eyes. The high-pitched, curiously emphatic voice strained for wandering up. "These are the
The Missouri Review – University of Missouri
Published: Oct 5, 1992
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