never be his for some odd reason, I smell watermelons 000416
amy i dunno...
you must be cued in. plugged on. in the house. on the table. hearing ghosts. wichichaka. dalai lama. flava flavor. maybe later. onto somethin'. hold the pumpkin. tore the fabric. roarin' maverick.
nom years ago years ago years i dreamed
a nightmare down by the bay
birdmad earlier in the day, a flatbed truck had come down to the loading dock of the shed and the forklift operator began to take all of the pallets off of the back of the truck.

Atop each pallet, there was a cardboard cylinder about three feet tall. Within each cylinder were several dozen watermelons.

The driver directed the forklift operator to take two pallets from the day's shipment and park them in the refrigerated warehouse for the workers.

the dial thermometer hanging from the foreman's office was pegged at 110 degrees, but the voice coming through my headphones pronounced the day to be headed for 117. The foreman's small Air conditioner that chugged away was straining.

the conveyor traffic sped up so i kept on shoveling the ice into the boxes of onions that made their way down the line. i cranked my headphones and kept on shoveling until Joe got on the P.A. and called out "Break Time!... Quebrada!"

Old Jose with his calloused hands came up to me and slapped me on the back to direct my attention from Veronica at the counting machine to the table by the warehouse door where the spindly guy we called Flaco ("skinny") had brought out his machete and was slicing up the now deeply chilled watermelons

i sat with Veronica and my "cousin" Clemente at the edge of the railroad dock laughing at Clemente's bad jokes and doing my best to flirt with Veronica in an innocent enough way that wouldn't have her mom come after me with Flaco's machete.

a mundane, mostly meaningless day, half my life ago from this very moment, but there it is all the same, the taste of freshly picked watermelon and good company near the close of a hard, hot day
mos so round and! 060729
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