Okay, Barbara. Here's some drivel I came up with about the morning after the 4th of July: In my neighborhood, black and white and tan plastic bags are piled at curbside. They've been out there two days now, baking in the sun's relentless heat. Trucks with over-slung back-ends move along the streets, stopping at the piles of bags and rubber garbage cans. Tanned men that travel with the truck wear bright yellow plastic tops over their shirts and orange gloves on their hands. They throw the bags in the back of the truck, tip the garbage cans in, then move on to the next house. Empty boxes that bottle rockets came in litter the lawns they pass. Sidewalks are marked with black where the rockets and roman candles were shot off. The faint tang of rotten eggs hangs in the air. And when the garbage truck comes around the corner again, there is that added aroma of decay, faintly sweet and bitter.
I'll try again Monday.
Bob ;-)
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