Bohicket Road





Driving through the tunnel
Of shrouded oaks that is Bohicket Road.
I am on a sloooowwww ride.

The heartbeat bass of hip hop
Is playing loudly on the Jeep’s radio
As I make the pass
Through the nature and ghetto
Of the Gullah
In the Outer Banks
Of South Carolina.

But even so
With the windows open
The music is still overcome
By the louder cacophony of crickets and frogs
Hidden deep within
The marsh and woods
Dense in the humidity all around me.

The perfumed sweat
Of Southern Carolina shoreline
Is swallowing me up
As I pass ramshackle vegetable stands
With handmade misspelled signs
That are closed for the night.

There are many great black trees
Swathed with elaborate grave markers
Beaconing some amigo’s unfortunate end.
I’ve seen them all juiced up and acting loco
Impervious to the high speed traffic
Impaired thinking and motion
Meeting crumpled fender
Or silver bumper
At the side of this long road.

Most of the single level homes
That I pass at 50 mph
Still have their Christmas lights up
And there are trailers with gardens
Of debris
And rust
Statuary
And broken furniture.


The Jeep rushes by churches.
Lots of churches.

Abandoned churches.

Churches in people’s homes.

Simple churches
As old as the road
That I’m travelling on.

I can hear cats in heat
And ferocious dogs barking
At the ends of chain
As long as the yards.

I ease past chrome parties
One hand on the wheel.

Gatherings of young, stoic black men
Lifting forties and shorties
And Bud tall boys.
Blazing with the family.
The smoke from the barbeque
Mixing with the chalice being passed around
The choking
Laughing circle.

I can sense the tattooed criminals
On parole
As they smile at me
Through their metal grilles
Their muscular arms
Flashing in the firelight.

I can feel the voudoun vibe
The Gullah spirit
Woven tightly
Within the corn rowed hair.

The history here
Is long and extended.

Generations upon generations.

Yet it reaches in through
The open windows
In a quick and sweeping pass
Gripping me dead on
Thumping me in the chest
Point blank
Like a fellow heavily inked bretheren
Welcoming me home
And putting the drink immediately to my lips.