Statesboro, Ga. The Allman Brothers. It is clay. Pines. Slow talk. And blues. That even white boys can play some. It is all in Dickey’s licks on Blue Sky. All in that. That is the south. Church. White clapboard churches. Single lanes. Waves from trucks. Talking to people just cuz that’s how your momma raised you. Sweat. Lakes. Rivers. BBQ. Collards. Fried chicken. Watermelon. Everyone gets along because they all share the same things. Until they don’t. The south sounds like fire too. And gunshots.
