THE PEASE RIVER KING
I followed him back to the breakfast table where we sat down. He scooted me a bottle and I couldn’t see more than peanuts floating at the top and skins soaked to the side of the brown, wet neck. Something rowdy and earthen popped on up my brain when I went for a smell. I watched PaPaw take a big swig, smile, and sigh a long satisfaction. Nothing better, I remember him saying as he leaned back in the chair and looked out the window. I took a drink as well, surprised I would rather swallow than spit. I agreed with him and sat back in my seat the same way. He said he was a boy on a horse the first time he drank it. I already knew that horses name. We watched summer dapple across the backyard in silence. The old preacher showed me God with root beer and peanuts for a second or two.
T.K. Edmond is a writer and public education administrator in North Texas. He writes poems as a form of revenge or mission work depending on what the moment demands. He thinks a lot about the opposite of the middle and what to do about the culture of cruelty in Texas. T.K. is a graduate of UT Arlington and has work in Novus Arts & Literature.