because when he spoke, we stopped. The room found itself grounded and for those few minutes, eternity was a little blue bouncy ball held between his thumb and his palm tucked safely away in his pocket. All of a sudden, we wasn't we. We were beaten up old cars that still ran like a dream. We were beaten up by the same little girl and promised never to cry. We were fighting to keep our tongues away from the bottle. We were his story. We were there. And every time he bowed, we were that one crying child. When he bowed, we were one more dry tongue. When he bowed, we would always break down in front of the same gas station at the same time. And every time, he bowed

                                                Beau Williams

                                                2009