Free I'll Never Get Out of This World Alive by Steve Earle

a tire with a sixteen-penny nail in it.
    But Graciela had eyes only for Jackie. Doc, paralyzed by the crush of the crowd, could only watch helplessly as she ducked beneath his arm and slipped through the crowd and, by virtue of tenacity and her diminutive stature, reached the fence. The First Lady, dressed in an immaculately tailored powder blue suit, smiled and waved the perfect parade wave to the crowd: elbow, elbow, wrist, wrist ... Graciela waved back as best she could, squeezing one of her tiny hands through one of the ragged diamond-shaped links in the galvanized fence.
    "
Yah-kee! Hola, Yah-kee!
" she shrilled, not even noticing that she had scraped her wrist badly on the rough fencing as she'd forced her hand through. Tiny drops of blood flecked her dress; she paid no attention. It was worth it. Jackie was so beautiful, the most beautiful woman that Graciela had ever seen. Even at a great distance she radiated warmth and grace and charm. While the president greeted one dignitary after another, the First Lady continued to engage the crowd, smiling and waving until she and the president reached the waiting motorcade lined up along the taxiway. There was even a moment there when Graciela could have sworn that their eyes met and Jackie smiled at her.
    And she was right. All of the other women in the crowd witnessed it and each and every one believed that it was intended for her, and all their hearts melted into one. Even Marge and Maria sensed a common bond with the glamorous Jackie as she regally accompanied her husband down the receiving line, a half step behind, as protocol in the man's world of politics dictated. But in fact, Jackie was smiling at Graciela and Graciela alone, and only Graciela saw the sadness in her eyes and that sadness became her own. Her grandfather had a name for such moments, the instant in which people like himself and Graciela saw what others could not see. He called it
la luz.
The light. Something sacred passed between them, from Jackie to Graciela and from Graciela to Jackie.
    And then she was gone. She ducked out of sight, and the massive presidential limousine pulled away, preceded by a brace of police motorcycles and followed by another black limo, and then another, and then two more, and then a final pair of motorcycles for good measure. The din of the crowd died down to a clamor and then a murmur, and then they began to disperse, returning to their cars and their everyday lives. Doc finally managed to make his way up front and found Graciela still sitting on the hard concrete watching in the direction that the motorcade had traveled. He knelt down and as he gently helped her to her feet, Graciela winced a little, and he noticed her wrist.
    "What have you done to yourself, child?"
    She absently nodded toward the fence but she wasn't the least bit distressed about the injury.
    "
No, es nada.
"
    "
Nada,
my foot. That's a nasty little abrasion you've got there. If I had the serum I'd give you a tetanus shot, just to be on the safe side. At the very least that wrist could do with a good cleaning and a proper dressing. Let's get you home and then we'll see what we can do."
    The drive home was a lot quieter than the outward journey. Santo and Maria compared notes quietly in Spanish, and Marge snored loudly, her head resting on Dallas's shoulder. Teresa uttered not a single word the entire ride home, though she was wide awake in wonder at her encounter with royalty. Manny had a question or two.
    "How much you reckon a limo costs, Doc?"
    "I don't know, Manny, four or five thousand, I reckon. A lot more for that big Lincoln that the president was riding in. It's a custom job, bulletproof, you know."
    Manny's eyes widened but never left the road.
    "No shit? Bulletproof?"
    "That's what they say."
    "Well, I'll be damned."

VI
    All day long, Hank prowls the South Presa Strip from the beer joint to the railroad tracks, covering the distance each way in the space of single malignant thought. Pedestrians