Dolly Parton and Ansel Adams Take on the Rednecks
Sky stretches overhead. Dramatic clouds, perfect shadows on the rocks, but Dolly doesn't notice.
When she sees pick up trucks on the horizon, she thinks of a new song. Underfoot: clay pigeons, broken
By birdshot or bullets, and one real pigeon, his neck exploded. The no hunting sign is full
Of holes. Ansel's on his knees fiddling with f-stops and shutter speeds. He doesn't notice
the trucks coming or the song Dolly is humming now. When she begins singing
about forsaken love, thinking about how Ansel is ignoring her,
he says, shhh, you'll scare the heron. The pick up trucks speed toward them. The first donuts
in the wet field, spraying mud On the Graphlex. Dolly Parton giggles. Nervously. Her breasts jiggle,
but Ansel Adams doesn't notice. He's wiping mud off with a White hankie. It's not enough.
He'd like Dolly's skirt, all that voluminous fabric, but untucks his shirt instead.
The next truck shoots not only mud, but A half-filled beer can. When it hits the camera The spay
splashes Ansel's face. The third truck is shooting At the first, and red shells pop out the window.
Buckshot whistles around Ansel Adam's head. His geese rise from the pond, the heron
lifts from the shoreline. It's not hunting season, but three of the geese fall to the ground
around Dolly with plump thuds. She thinks goose dinner, until one moans,
soft and gurgly. She rushes over, wants to be sick, wants save it. But the rednecks
are splashing by again, spraying her dress and the round
flesh above is with mud. Cold mud. Dolly shrieks.
She picks up the spare tripod and swings it at the next truck,
cracking the windshield. She runs toward the third truck,
screaming and waving the tripod. Through the muddy lens Ansel captures a shot of it, and another
of the truck bearing down on Dolly. In the last shot, the grill is inches from the Graphlex
And Ansel is airborne, arms akimbo.
I am certain of nothing but the Heart's affections and the truth of the Imagination- John Keats