Parade

I waited for a stately parade of cars trapped behind a slow moving school bus to pass, then I ran across the street. I punched 911 into my phone as I approached her. Jeanette lay on the ground beside her house, the hose in her hand spurting crazily in the air like a fountain gone mad. “My friend needs an ambulance,” I told the 911 operator. I threw the hose aside and felt Jeanette’s neck for a pulse. “She’s breathing, but not conscious,” I said and gave directions to our location. Jeanette was soaked from . . .

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The camera loves

The camera loved Albuquerque in the Hallmark Hall of Fame movie In From the Night that I watched on CBS last night. The views of the mountains, especially from inside the courthouse, were wonderful. There were nice shots of homes, gardens, the university, and the mountains. The cameraman made Albuquerque look like the most beautiful city on the planet. I just hope people don’t see it and rush off to New Mexico expecting water to be available . . .

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On sale now

Down the street
At the estate sale
Everything is
On sale now

Half-price

Down the street
At the estate sale
There’s no family
To want the

Years’ accumulation

Down the street
At the estate sale
Strangers pick
Through artifacts

Representing a life

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My tree

beavertree.jpg
I woke with a horrible pain in my head. I touched it and found blood. I was spread out on damp, leaf-covered ground. I was cold, wet. Where was I? There was a strange looking tree. At first I couldn’t understand why the tree looked that way, then I remembered that there was an animal that chewed down trees. I couldn’t think of the name of the animal. I tried standing up but my head . . .

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My interpretation

I quote: Exxon Mobil paid its departing CEO $48.5 million last year. He made $21.2 million cashing in stock options, and $3.1 million in dividends. His retirement package is worth $250 million.

My interpretation of this statistical information is that the United States of America has plenty of money for health care, universal insurance coverage, adequate social security funding, Medicare, Medicade, public education and energy saving manufacturing programs. But that money is in the hands of . . .

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Don’t forget

Don’t forget the tickets. Don’t forget your coat. Don’t forget to be home by 6:30. The woman drives me crazy with her mothering. Does she think I can’t manage the simplest things by myself? I’m an adult, her flipping breadwinner, and capable of running a business all by myself. If she starts in on me again tonight, I swear I’m going to deck her. Lay her out flat and pray she never wakes up. Ram her nose into her brain and drop her instantly . . .

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Burrito

The Bucking Burrito sat off highway 40 a ways on the outside of town. It was a flat-topped cinder block building, in need of paint and a lot fewer ruts in the parking lot. When I opened the door the aroma of chile, onions, and frying meat greeted me with an embrace. There were five vinyl-clad booths against one wall and several Formica topped square tables in the middle of the floor. Conversation stopped when I walked through the door. Must be the tailored suit and the panty hose, I thought, although a woman who is 6’1″ in flats is used to getting a few looks no matter what she’s wearing . . .

Dance for Joy

Joyful Sculpture of Child
I shouldn’t have eaten seven brownies inside of an hour. What was I trying to prove? This child before me looks dappled. I stare in fascination. The colors on his skin are mesmerizing. He seems frozen in joy. Frozen joy. Ice cream. Yes, maybe if I go back inside they’ll have some ice cream. Or maybe some chocolate chips. Ice cream with chocolate chips. But what about . . .

Photo Prompt

Thought I’d try something new today and put up a photo as a writing prompt. Please use the photo to come up with an idea for the first 50 words of a piece of writing.

I stand at the crossroads, thinking that I’m a long way from home and don’t have much hope of getting back there anytime soon. Do I care? Do I want to go home? Maybe I should do something dramatic while I’m standing here. Sell my soul to the devil and take up guitar, or come to a decision about the direction I’m heading. I know that second option is the one I need to take, but I’m not sure I care enough about my direction to make a decision. . .

Cats

Feral cats, clustered like flies, sit outside the screen door, watching and sniffing. The younger ones meow impatiently from time to time. They’re drawn to my door by the aroma of the fish that I brought inside my beachfront cabin moments before. As soon as I took a knife to the first fish and began cleaning it, the cats appeared one by one. These cats know me, know that I will reward them with entrails and gooey guts from my catch if they wait patiently. I’ve lived on this beach two months now, long enough to become predictable…