Good Morning Six

I see the guitar that my cousin played in prison, is floating with the tv in the swimming pool. A topless girl is sleeping sunny side down on the picnic table, her hands tucked prayerfully under one sweaty cheek, her face innocent as a three year old sleeping off a big day at the carnival. The girl must have called it a night early because every surface of the table she does not occupy, is covered with empty bottles and cans. If lifted away carefully, a constellation of her would remain.

Duke trots over to where Joey has passed out on the lawn, drops a slobbery tennis ball in his face and I hear from inside, others beginning to grumble and groan awake.

I zip up after the longest whizz of my life, spot a half full Corona on the girl’s table, tilt the cigarette butt out along with the lime and drink a toast to another fine Saturday morning.

 

This Six was a response to a challenge Gita Smith threw down on the now defunkt Six Sentences site. Her challenge was to write a Six using the first line of a song for the first sentence. I chose Jim White's, Handcuffed To A Fence In Mississippi but used the line I like best rather than the very first.