Vicki Chauvin

Angel Digs

For heavens sake, the heat seems like it is melting everything around me. The bougainvillea spilling over the rusty fence is droopy instead of pointing up to the blue sky in hot pick victory. The once green grass is now all torn up since my truck has been digging up the dirt every time I'm here. Dry, brown, sad. The blue, filthy rag I wipe over my forehead is filled with sweat, you know the kind, it's dry and wet at the same time but hey, I'm not here for a pretty boy contest.