bet'cha you can't get away with that anymore

 

1965

living in Georgia

six years
old

my father was a drunk
off his ass son-of-bitch
in every sense of the
word-

but every now and then
he could throw you a bone

I'd would hear him calling
me

"HEY, WHY DON'T YOU
 WALK DOWN TO THE
 STORE AND GET ME A
 PACK OF CAMELS. HERES
 A BUCK...

AND GET YOURSELF
SOMETHING TOO."

(that was as good as
 it got with my old man)

so... here's this six year
old kid walking along the
roadside heading for
this mom & pop store

the old guy behind the
counter knew the routine

and would say in his
sleepy southern drawl

"SO YOUR FATHER WANTS
 A PACK OF HIS CAMELS, HUH?"

I nodded in acknowlegment

and he would hand a pack
of Camels ( unfiltered of
course) to me as others
shoppers walked in and
out paying no attention
what so ever to the exchange

then I would get something
for myself:

a comic book-
.12

a candy bar-
.10

a small glass
bottle of coke
.10
(coke always
 tasted better
 and colder in
 a glass bottle)

a bag of chips-
.10

a pack of Camels-
.30

WHAT A HAUL!

then I would make
my way home through
the miserable heat of
a late Georgia summer
afternoon

if my father was only
on his 3rd or 4th beer
when I arrived home,
then normally everything
would be okay ( the violence
didn't really start until
after the first six pack)

he would say, "KEEP
THE FUCKING CHANGE."

...and I did

after 56 years I still think
about those packs of
unfiltered Camels

how great that ice cold bottled
coke tasted

 how much candy and chips a
dime could get you

and all the adventures
between the pages of
that comic

but mostly about a six
year old buying a pack
of cigarettes

bet'cha you can't get
away with that
anymore!