Foliage
Foliage
I place my boot on the neck of this commie bone bag, the toe resting on his chin. I think, I hate this wet heat he breathes. At least there is no rain in it--for now. I hate his elusive sky, too. A sky filled with foliage, unlike the limbs and leaves of the hickory or oak trees back home.
"Slats, you and Mad-dog planning to marry that commie beaner," Luke hissed at me.
…
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…that rabbit eyes shout with eloquence.
The team smiles a single smile as I leave my teary dreams struggling up through the wet air behind me. Visions of predator and prey fade; I, too, become the soup, and the mud, and the foliage.
James Dan Johnson
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I am a 44 year old retired US Navy Nuclear Submariner. I am now a Senior at ASU seeking my B.A. in History with a minor is Sociology.
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