I am from fiddles and sweet tea,
from Wal-Mart messiahs
And too many apologies
I am from shoulder mountains,
rusty drive-ins
butter-shined stars.
You can move me
with high-tech, tapas
and a U-Haul with aliens painted on the side.
I will watch Andy Griffith reruns
And tell closed-door neighbors too softly:
I am from fiddles and sweet tea.