Space Invader
Sometimes, strolling over kudzu-covered hill and dale,I’m comforted by the thought that when the
Souths’ last barbecue smolders and dies, when the last pickup truck sputters to a stop, when the last column falls off the last plantation house, when diners in Yazoo, Mississippi, and Eufaula, Alabama, succumb to mocha-decaf-cappuccino-skim lattes, kudzu will still be there, creeping at a rate of 12 inches per day, tucking every vestige of our glorious region under a thick green quilt.