12 November 2007

Free Angela


I just took some old tangerines out to the compost bin. It's chilly out today, since the sun't not up yet. As I emptied five rotten tangerines out of their orange mesh sleeve, the odor of rancid tangerine juice stung the air. It smelled like the worst kind of rotgut. It smelled like a tangerine nightmare rubbed down with isopropyl alcohol. Some of it got on my hand and I said "Damn, DAMN, man..." The air is dry as Arizona out there. Haven't had rain for weeks. My dog, Stella, is drying up. She looks a little more dessicated with every passing month of this drought. She drains her waterbowl twice a day, but it doesn't seem to help. Yesterday she howled like a coyote when she spied a large doe in our driveway. Even her howl sounded dry. Like a saguaro wind in an unemployment office. Like 007's martini.

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