Butter Beans

Butter Beans

Frank saw it. A bright light set against a black backdrop like a chocolate cupcake with white sprinkles in the Bakersfield

sky.Pulling up to the pumps Frank thought about Sunny’ butter beans, green little fuckers. Here he was out ball-in’ the jack with a

load of cattle pissing and shitting in their steel cages, while she grew butter beans.

Frank wiped grease from his hands. On the interstate mile markers flashing by Frank knew he was going to kill her beans–

and her too.

In his cell, Frank dreamed of the open road blue, gray diesel smoke cracks in the pavement. Lunch time, Frank hears the metal tray slide in to his lockup.

He checked the tray. He had gotten used to the grizzled, dry ham. Frank reached down to take a bite. He saw them; the butter beans. He saw Sunny’s face and he had to laugh.




Tagged , ,

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: