The Swap Shop

Sunday morning in Tallow, Alabama, and the phone at the radio station has been going since a quarter of seven. Jedediah reads out whatever the county called in. Three tires — not four, because the fourth one is on the truck and the truck is fine. A chest freezer, sold full, because she would rather it stayed that way. A boat motor that will trade for a dog, though it has to be a good dog: the man was clear that he does not want one that is just alive. Then the births and the birthdays, the yard sales with the contents read out in full, somebody's dedication to a husband nineteen years gone, and the sheriff's blotter, where nobody is ever in much trouble and the hot dogs had been rearranged. Nobody is performing. That is the whole thing. It is just a man with a list and a county that keeps calling.