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Bourbon

Bourbon Mason-Dixon Lines P o e t ry B y r . t. s m i t h ". . . always in pints, perhaps to stow snug in the glove box with the pearl-handled pistol . . ." Courtesy of Craiglduncan under the Creative Commons Attribution Share-Alike 3.0 Unported license. My father was hooked on one brand, Ancient Age, always in pints, perhaps to stow snug in the glove box with the pearl-handled pistol, and likely to prove he was a moderate man, and he would tell stories of his partner Earl Thatcher, a devotee of excess, intolerance and wrath, who'd slip away from dinner to take a piss but slink back to the room, sneak a sip from my father's bottle and add water to hide his habit, but Earl was a steady liar who never in his life solved a single crime, to hear my father tell it, an improvident soul prone to nocturnal misdemeanors himself, a bald rascal who ran with underage women and ate Chinese straight from the white box with sticks, an imposter who didn't know a six-cylinder from a V-eight. He shortcutted the Miranda recitation, might slap a suspect in private and http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png Southern Cultures University of North Carolina Press

Bourbon

Smith, R. T.
Southern Cultures , Volume 18 (1) – Feb 5, 2012
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Publisher
University of North Carolina Press
Copyright
Copyright © Center for the Study of the American South.
ISSN
1534-1488
Publisher site
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Abstract

Mason-Dixon Lines P o e t ry B y r . t. s m i t h ". . . always in pints, perhaps to stow snug in the glove box with the pearl-handled pistol . . ." Courtesy of Craiglduncan under the Creative Commons Attribution Share-Alike 3.0 Unported license. My father was hooked on one brand, Ancient Age, always in pints, perhaps to stow snug in the glove box with the pearl-handled pistol, and likely to prove he was a moderate man, and he would tell stories of his partner Earl Thatcher, a devotee of excess, intolerance and wrath, who'd slip away from dinner to take a piss but slink back to the room, sneak a sip from my father's bottle and add water to hide his habit, but Earl was a steady liar who never in his life solved a single crime, to hear my father tell it, an improvident soul prone to nocturnal misdemeanors himself, a bald rascal who ran with underage women and ate Chinese straight from the white box with sticks, an imposter who didn't know a six-cylinder from a V-eight. He shortcutted the Miranda recitation, might slap a suspect in private and

Journal

Southern Cultures – University of North Carolina Press

Published: Feb 5, 2012

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