Nebraska is warm and smells of corn and plants.


If I were here, I would grow tomatoes and eggplant.

At home, our garden is quite overgrown.

When I grew up, we always weeded the garden.  Now I don’t need to weed, so I mostly don’t.

If I ever visit Nebraska, and I’m not reading, writing, thinking, I won’t know what to do.

There is a bridge across a small river.

Beneath the bridge, there are trolls.  Those trolls rattle the bridge at night, but we have a flashlight and we spy on them.  We see turkeys, rabbits, but we do not see the trolls.  Trolls are generally sly and slimy.  The slime is green.  I know this because I dated a troll once.  For a couple weeks.  I kept tried kissing him to turn him into a man and it kept not working and I had the slime to deal with.  That’s why I’m glad I’m not dating any more.  One tires of slime.

But not of reading. Writing. Thinking. Walking quickly across the bridge. Escaping trolls.

Published in: on July 20, 2016 at 2:37 pm  Leave a Comment  

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