He waited in the field for the Yellow Cab, conversing with men in
overalls. He carried a pail of avocados, almost black, and gave one to
each. The absence of streets and traffic lights was insignificant.
Looking up just in time, he saw a kit of wild city pigeons, the sun
brightening their feathers—morphs of rainbow. Rusty-red, white and
pied-blue. He watched them stream through the rays and listened for the
sound of tires.
first published in Camroc Press Review 2012
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2025 FlashFlood: The Complete List
In case you missed any of the pieces we appeared during the 2025 FlashFlood, here's an index to everything. Sadly, the 'Blog Archiv...
-
Huge congratulations to FlashFlood's 2024 nominees for the following awards. We wish them well in the selection process! Best of the ...
-
I know it is Sunday morning because the paper lands on the driveway with a louder thud, masala chai whispers underneath the door, and the so...
-
In case you missed any of the pieces we appeared during the 2025 FlashFlood, here's an index to everything. Sadly, the 'Blog Archiv...
Lovely... loved the images your words created
ReplyDeletethanks so much, susmita.
ReplyDelete