DEAR GOD,

Shug Avery is coming to town! She coming with her orkestra. She going to sing in the Lucky Star out on Coalman road. Mr.
_____ going to hear her. He dress all up in front the glass, look at himself, then undress and dress all over again. He slick
back his hair with pomade, then wash it out again. He been spitting on his shoes and hitting it with a quick rag.
He tell me, Wash this. Iron that. Look for this. Look for that. Find this. Find that. He groan over holes in his sock.
I move round darning and ironing, finding hanskers. Anything happening? I ast.
What you mean? he say, like he mad. Just trying to git some of the hick farmer off myself. Any other woman be glad.
I’m is glad, I say.
What you mean? he ast.
You looks nice, I say. Any woman be proud.
You think so? he say.
First time he ast me. I’m so surprise, by time I say Yeah, he out on the porch, trying to shave where the light better.
I walk round all day with the announcement burning a hole in my pocket. It pink. The trees tween the turn off to our road
and the store is lit up with them. He got bout five dozen in his trunk.
Shug Avery standing upside a piano, elbow crook, hand on her hip. She wearing a hat like Indian Chiefs. Her mouth open
showing all her teef and don’t nothing seem to be troubling her mind. Come one, come all, it say. The Queen Honeybee is
back in town.
Lord, I wants to go so bad. Not to dance. Not to drink. Not to play card. Not even to hear Shug Avery sing. I just be
thankful to lay eyes on her.