The Red Impala

Nunez, Calderon, and Luis (that’s me), we found an old Chevy Impala, a real big one from the Fifties.  It was in the sandbox in front of the kids’ playground next to the project in which we lived.  Calderon is very smart.  He got a job selling bets at OTB, and we really trusted his judgment.  “Nunez, Luis,” he said, “the car has no plates on it.  The radio and battery are gone.  It is safe to assume that it is abandoned.”

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Cowgirl, Cowboy

ooh ooh ooh weep padoo,
ooh ooh ooh wooop padoo
ooh ooh, ooh
ooh ooh ooh weep padoo
singing their cowboy song

Cowboy couldn’t believe Emmy Lou sang that song. He’d thought it was a throw-away – though he’d found it infectious beginning age six – from a cowboy compilation record with a wild west lasso cover, and lyrics remembered as the kid heard it: not “cattle call,” but “cowboy song,” and maybe he heard it right.

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