Abstract
A Bench in College Station Francine J. Harris this is my place at the edge of campus. below the grackles and pigeons, doves pair off in the leaves. they shred white blossoms which flutter and fall from the branches of thin-limbed trees just tall enough for the birds to call to one another. the courtyard opens up to texas. and from the tiny apartmentsmen drift out of doorways and slink along cobblestone walkstoward the bean saloon, their legs curved down their torsos in a denim drawl. the women are as big as i am, bones dense as a dare hair swinging over cotton shirts, and somehow this helps me think. this bench is one i look for in every city i visit, every place i live. the bench where i sit like a scarecrow. watching the crops. [End Page 1013] Copyright © 2010 The Johns Hopkins University Press
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