Holly Iglesias             (Maureen Seaton)
KANNAPOLIS, 1941, REEL 2

                             —after Movies of Local People by H. Lee Waters
​
                   So beautiful the men in hats, the straw boaters, and fedoras, and caps.
                   So beautiful the ladies in ladies’ dresses, summer cottons, dotted Swiss, gingham
checks, rowdy plaids.
                   So beautiful the string bag of onions and the basket of canned goods and the
boxes tied with twine.
                   So beautiful the children holding hands, bashful in front of the camera, two of
them toothless.
                    So beautiful the youth leaving the mill, overalls flecked with thread, sleeves rolled
up to show off his muscles, machine oil on his chin.
                    So beautiful the girl, whippet-thin and haughty, rushing to move past the camera
until someone shouts her name and she breaks into a smile.
                    So beautiful the men smoking on the curb outside the courthouse, the lawyer
strolling behind them in a seersucker suit and two-tone shoes.
                    So beautiful the mule pulling a wagon heaped with cartons of peaches and berries,
so beautiful the driver of the wagon and the mule.
                    So beautiful the grocer in a pristine apron, unrolling the awnings to protect the
lettuce from the noonday sun.
                    So beautiful the grandma in her housedress and lace-up shoes, a boy on one hand,
a girl on the other, each licking a lollipop.
                    So beautiful the bodies passing by, so beautiful the haircuts and cloth jackets, so
beautiful the dungarees spiffed up with a Sunday shirt.
                    So beautiful the plate of navy beans with ham and red-eye gravy and two yeast
rolls to sop up the gravy.
                     So beautiful the girls who scowl, the girls who grin, so beautiful the boy who
looks away.
                     So beautiful the mothers outside the shoe store, gazing at the new pumps and
oxfords behind the glass.
                    So beautiful the running board where the men rest, chewing the fat, bone-tired
and laughing.
                    So beautiful the tongues licking ice cream cones, so beautiful the bare arms and
sun-suits, so beautiful the hats set at flirtatious angles.
                    So beautiful the man behind the lens, the man who loves their flowing by, so
​beautiful the river of their days.