It was summer; flies ruled and the beer was warm. The family argued, drunk, after the reception. Fuck this. I stumbled out and away. The sidewalk crumbled into the dirt of the street. Old pickups and muscle cars spun dust.
A shrill giggle shot from a Camaro ditched in a field. No... insane big-chested Rode and dumb Nacho from Boyle Heights, limbs akimbo in the back seat.
"Juanito! Venga, mi chulo, ungh...." Flies filled the car.
About to pass out from rum, tequila and beer, I got in - didn't even look. The flies settled, as dust spun silently outside, until still.
� 2004 by john e
