Chicken

The heat from live coals that line the bottom of the drum makes the air wavy.

Where I am from, sometimes, in the summer, along the roadside, groups of men stand over 50-gallon drums cut lengthwise, propped up on cinder blocks, and laid on their sides. The heat from live coals that line the bottom of the drum makes the air wavy. Chickens lay on a grate covering the opening while fat drips onto the coals and burns with an acrid tang and thick smoke. I always roll down my windows and deeply inhale when I see the smoke from the grilling chicken. They sell the chicken, but I never stop and buy any.