a sunday in june
The brief moments of silence didn’t bother us as we watched the afternoon unravel like a green rose. I brought a sweatshirt to watch the ponies, but the weather was gorgeous and our smiles kept us warm. Grace let us down and I left with an empty wallet, a sunburn, and a pack of peanut M&M’s. We said hello to Marilyn on the way back and I felt strangely happy amongst the dead. We rolled on with the top down and the music loud. Do you know a better way? We stopped for hamburgers and a young woman working her last shift rang us up. She had the perfect blend of sincerity and desire in her voice. The dogs made for excellent company for the remainder of the night. I talked, he talked, and bullshit banged at the door all night. Have fun sleeping on the porch.
What a perfect Sunday.