He would dance and sing Dreams songs, kicking up dust, clouding the hot south- western sun, as we waited for tourists. We would drink Cokes spiked with vodka I stole from my ole man, and listen to country music radio from Tulsa. We sat in the shade and watched heat rise up from the highway. The stale air burned our faces, chocked in our throats. Johnny Big Man sang like his Grandfathers for heat-dazed tourists as they pumped gas, begging quarters for more smokes.
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