| First Heartbreak Glossy black beetles scurry over the shreds of dignity in her trash, shivering at the sunlight that shines off their backs. No one lives in that house anymore, where the old man died and whispers leap out from the walls like gnats to buzz around your ears. Orchids hum gently in the breeze. The caked earth waits for petals to shrivel up and fall to the ground in soft, quiet wrinkles. Florida sits waiting for the northern birds to fly back for the winter, wondering if it is so nice up there now they won't want to make the journey. She sips at the sweating lemonade glass in her hand and wonders if it is right to peel away and squeeze the life-blood out of fruits. |