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Ritual you’ve seen before. One of the coarsest threads in this curious American tapestry. Once upon a time practiced on occasion, by accident, via cattle-drivers scratching their names in the American dirt. Codified and enshrined by the motion picture camera for a generation. Two men. A couple guns between them. An itch in their fingers. Dust in the air. And American’s most sunburnt backdrop behind them. Now updated for the suburban era. A janitor in one corner. A white plastic sack in the other. A junior high school the new American vista. And a swinging lightbulb keeping time.
By C.K. Turner5
2121 ratings
Ritual you’ve seen before. One of the coarsest threads in this curious American tapestry. Once upon a time practiced on occasion, by accident, via cattle-drivers scratching their names in the American dirt. Codified and enshrined by the motion picture camera for a generation. Two men. A couple guns between them. An itch in their fingers. Dust in the air. And American’s most sunburnt backdrop behind them. Now updated for the suburban era. A janitor in one corner. A white plastic sack in the other. A junior high school the new American vista. And a swinging lightbulb keeping time.