A Delta Gas Station

Last time I prayed, it was a sweaty summer

down a gravel road, at a rusty gas station

where the numbers really flip.

I went inside and paid the man in cigarettes

and told him I was good, an' you?

and prayed to God I'd get away,

and tried to ignore the barefoot baby 

standing in the doorway in a diaper

chewin' on a penny.

The End

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