Listen!
MEN The sale barn: sweat, cigars, sawdust, four or five kinds of manure. In the tight amphitheatre of rising benches, I stand next to my father, not knowing any other place to be and not wanting to be young enough to be seen holding his hand. This is where the men are, with the animals. They march them through the ring--sheep, pigs, cows-- and the auctioneer's "down biddadown" sings dispassionately from behind a counter set high so he can see everything. His microphone is condensed lightening, his messengers and bid-takers run about the room, and at his right hand sits a man with glasses, keeping accounts. Above, the big blades of the ceiling fan split the air into four parts. There are men with long beards, men with smoking mouths, men with wrists thick as my leg. I take it all in, through my eyes, my nose, I think I even take it in through my skin.