When The Blues Was Dues- Lucinda Williams’ “Lake Charles”
She knew she should have walked right on by when she saw him standing, standing Texas tall (all six feet two of him to her five foot three), kind of lanky, dark hair, a little long, a little too long to have been a local bijou Cajun boy and so Texas tall was about right, dark eyes, devil’s eyes with long lashes, tooth -pick just kind of hanging off to the side of his mouth, and a little permanent smirk setting that jut jaw off. Yah, standing king hell standing with one booted foot curled up against the wall in front of old Doc’s Rexall Drugstore just waiting, waiting for some woman, her, to come by she guessed. He took a look in her direction and he must have sensed that she was looking for a little trouble as he undressed her with his eyes, and she, hell, she ready to take that dress off right there. He, without saying a word, just pointed one finger toward his canary yellow Camaro, convertible, top down parked kitty-corner just then as he invited her into the vehicle. And she, no questions asked, no names exchanged, no life stories exchanged, sat herself right down in the front passenger seat after he opened the door for her. And she, they, their thing had started.
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