On our walk tonight, Bubba and I were strolling past the Leland Street Country club when we came upon one of our town’s mobile art installations: a car parked on the shoulder.
Bubba and I glanced at it as we walked by.
“I don’t think my mother would approve of that,” Bubba said. “I’m not sure I approve of it either.”
Bubba’s mother, a woman of Catholic faith who attended Mass daily while she lived and who believed the Catholic way was the way, was 1950’s white, middle-class proper. The Last Supper was probably ok; weird car art…not so much.
“Plus,” he continued, “it’s kind of creepy.”
Walk the Goats 