Tall Green Grass of Home
There’s a whole mess o’ trouble at the Choctaw Hill / Your sister didn’t make it but I bet you will
The world is a blanket of green, stretching to the horizon. Vicky pegs it down the gentle slope, towards the backyard of her family home: wide, broad, and on the other side of the tributary. Behind her, a rumbling crackle breaks the quiet of the plains. She can see Nicola, standing on the other side of the water, gesturing madly. And then the sturdy copse of trees bursts into flame.
Wash off all your make-up with a garden hose
She rolls awkwardly and lands with splayed legs. An instant glimmer in her eyes, and over to the faucet. The shot of water from the not-quiet-sealed hose attachment kicks her shin and runs down the spiral of a scar towards her ankle. The hose bursts into life, droplets flipping across the lawn and dowsing the slumbering dog in shining droplets. Across the fence comes giggling laughter, and Vicky races for the hose. The plains beyond are still blackened from the fire, the few trees now hollow stumps.
Watch the freckles sparkle down the ridge of your nose
Amy ducks away and, though flecks of water hit her face, the sponge sails harmlessly by. They’re panting on the lower foothills, the beaten up pickup a half-mile away. The sun darts through the forest leaves and catches Vee’s long red hair, which is tidy in a plait. Her face is lit up, like a classic frontier painting. The last day of school is an opportunity to celebrate the summer, celebrate both their families having made it through.
We’ll be off the radar, off the map
Amy’s arm is wrapped around Vicky’s as the boat drifts over the still lake. Vee’s skin is a constant surprise; it’s mottled and blasted like the lunar surface on one side and Amy can trace patterns along her arms. She’s enjoying the peace, the isolation and the company. On the far shore, the reeds give way to grassland, the prairie stretching north and west. They are a long way from any where. Good thing one of them learned to drive.
Stretched out in the tall green grass
They are holding hands. Amy’s blue wedding dress blends into the sky as Victoria-Vicky-Vee looks up. Vee’s emerald green dress seems slightly out of character - but they both loved the ceremony - and Vee wanted to be traditional. Amy gets down next to her, and nestles her head in the space between Vee’s neck and shoulder.
It’s only green, against the blue / It’s only me, against you
—
Note: The lines in italics are lyrics from a Cory Branan song, Tall Green Grass. I’ve been playing it over and over again these last few weeks, and had it in my head when thinking about what to write. The song’s story isn’t this story, but this is a story. Listen to the song here: http://www.myspace.com/corybranan
