Sunday mornings the reverend Eula Bass blasts
radio sermons out her window loud. Carries
it all over the block. "Don't worry about what
the Jones' got cause it's all gonna burn!"
They had a daytime revival in the front yard,
amplified with one microphone, one speaker.
I thought it was the radio. No one on their
porch, no crowd. Two preachers shouted to the street.
It seemed they were directing their words. Closer,
I saw Brin leaning against a car, grinning. They
were preaching to him. They asked if he would come
closer and he said "no." They asked if they could come
to where he was and he said "Things are fine as they is."
They preached the rest of the afternoon.
They never said anything to me.