With God in Baton Rouge
I’m driving my minivan down Florida Boulevard in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, past the SnackShack, the Ford dealership, the U-Lock-It, and the Super Chicken, listening to Lorraine, who is sitting in the seat next to me, talking. It is a hot, sticky October day–the overcast sky like a blanket, keeping the heat in. Lorraine likes to talk. Correction: Lorraine loves to talk–and to smoke, sing, eat, anything that will keep her mouth moving. She is forty-four, so dark that her skin shines like polished mahogany, and growing fat from all the potato chips and pork rinds that she eats when she’s not talking.
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