Forward County
They talk about Forward County as if it were magical. In all the local papers they all talk about the "pride" the "heritage" and even the "patriotism" that runs down our creeks and even through our blood. But I'm here to honestly say "I ain't never seen it." I didn't see it when our boys came home in boxes in the 60's and 70's and I didn't see it when ain't no one here could afford oil, and I sure as sugar tits don't see it now that I'm old and my Social Security check is 1145$ a month. How is a man of 65 supposed to live on that? How am I supposed to thrive and enjoy my sundown years with 1145$?
Well ain't no more adjective left in us here. Ain't no "Forward" that I've soon seen.
You know what I have seen though? I've seen Jimmy Sparks riding that motorcycle of his to my Granddaughter's house almost every day. I see those still melting black tires hit her drive way. I see those jeans hop off that bike and that helmet go under his arm. He don't use no front door neither. He looks around like he's robbin' her blind and then shuffles his little ass to the back porch. The lights go on in her room, then the stairway, then the kitchen, and then finally the porch. Then they go off in the exact opposite order all the way up in to her room. She takes him into her bed like a whore caught cheatin'. Is this supposed to be my legacy?
Forwad county ain't nothing but a name.
