Summerfield, NC

I stopped to purchase feed
for the three goats.
There's this old guy in overalls,
sixty something;
sitting there staring at me,
probably thinks I'm queer,
whatever.

I make eye contact
and nod at the old bastard.
He doesn't acknowledge.
His nose is red and his ass
is too big for his body.
It hangs over the sides
of the rocking chair and
bulges out under the armrests.

What the hell is he doing?
just sitting there in front
of the farmer's feed store.

He's squinting at me now.
He must have a profound understanding
of spatial relations.

He's sizing me up for something,
something Ned Beatty-esque.