They say he died in the back of a ’52 Cadillac. When the driver called his Mama she screamed so loud the neighbors peeped out of their gingham curtains. She beat her chest, gathered his things, and threw them on the lawn. She poured a gallon of gas over it by the time the black and white pulled to the curb. The Sheriff had to restrain her from lighting the whole pile on fire. It was sprinkling out when he drug her away from the smoking grass, tears and mascara streaking down her lined face. And what she didn’t lose to the alcohol, she now lost to the rain.