The first time I stopped in this town, a man pulled up in a truck and asked if he could “hep” me. He said, “She* seen you turn around at the gate** and we was wonderin’ if you needed some hep.”

I assumed that “hep” was a local word for “murder” so in a classic move, I tried some misdirection: I asked him where the cemetery was (“Own it, murderer!” was what I said to myself.) He told me it was down yonder, just past the silver*** house and I made a quick escape.

And then: I WENT BACK to that place. I didn’t see my friend from before, and to honest, I sort of missed him – I reckoned that I could add to my narrative.

Guess I’ll have to go back. Or is that too much fate-tempting?

Foss, Oklahoma
photographed 11.27.2021

*I don’t know who “she” was/is.

**I also don’t think I turned around at the gate?

***By “silver” he meant gray. Gray siding.