Country Wisdom

There's more news in a rural town, than a big city. From where you're at...you can spit to where it happened. They might not like you. They might not cough up a furball, in your direction. They might not like the 'curious sort'.

Doesn't matter, so. Don't say a thing. Don't give it up. Don't look their way or ask them...who they are? Just bide your quiet time. Become a legend in their midst. They only got one roll, and you're it. They'll come 'round sooner or later...tell you everything they know, which is, more than likely...nothing much.

People love to wonder. Very few know. The city keeps it tighter. None of them know a soul. Farmers all know farmers. They were raised with uncle Billy Bob and Old Joe fixed every car in town, and every tractor. The local Doc, was payed to stay, not to be a genius of the healing way...just be there to tell us stuff, make us feel safe, with those caring professional eyes.

Tell us some shit, and we'll go away...live our days till, our lot is up, and we pass away eternity in the old town cemetery. It's ok. We don't know much, and we wish to know less. It's hard to keep a small town's mouth shut, christian's, as, pretend to be such.

Don't let them kid you. Country wisdom knows more than it vaunts. It passed from time, before time...ever was, and it stayed in the hands of the royalty...gentry never knew. Don't say no. They look at you, like you're a witch. 'What chu look'n at, never seen a thing like me? Oh, bullshit!...Your mama! Prob'ly your daddy too. We all got warts, in the good old ...country USA.


Written by Bruce James Clyde 2016, at Deming, New Mexico

Art: google pic