Inscrutable (2)

You prowl in the weeds in search of a sliver
Of timber from logs where her cabin once stood.
But the structure is gone from the Little Pigeon River,
Its remnants embedded in a mansion in Brentwood.

You hearken for echoes on the hollowed old speaker
At Studio B where the tourists now gape,
Where Joshua Jolene and the poor, sinful Seeker
Were captured by Porter on RCA tape.

You pause at the quick-mart for a tabloid injection
Just how many wigs can one woman own?
And how many escapades dodge our detection?
Three-fourths of her story will never be known.
07-13-91