#125
Here, a hot night with pizza oven air. The song of the cicadas is overwhelmed by the drone of rooftop air conditioners, that turn on with a clank that startles the dog. At the park, people doze in a state of heat-induced lethargy, even at this time of an evening. The sunset is a dreamcicle orange. On the sand, wet with the sprinkler, a group of volleyball players attempt a game, while a few diehard skaters brave the ramps next to it. We continue on towards the cafe that closes early now, earlier than usual, bankers’ hours really. In the mornings, when we pass for coffee, the dog gets a treat. Even if I don’t want coffee, he still pulls me over, the girls inside, bored, offer him a treat anyway. I drop a few extra coins in the tip jar next time.
Later, as we round the park and head back east toward home, feral cats loom in the grass. Reports of dawn coyotes spread. Chickens have been lost. Watch out.