wysh

I drove to the Cobble Stone Caf where old women enjoy their pastrami on rye.

As I wait for mine I sit by the window and watch the high school girls walk around town in their half shirts and low jeans. Looking for something to do while on their vacations. Looking to get out.

I walked back to my car and drove to the lake, where families play in the sand and fathers grill as teenagers wrestle in the water.

Under a tree I write this and eat my lunch. The beach patrol gives me suspicious looks as they walk by. Two elderly men start talking to me about their friend that works for the phone company. One of them is hooked up to an oxygen tank.

I see a storm in the distance.

And of course, there are always ants to spoil the picnic.