"Millstone"

Walking to work in the evening, the blistering humidity lingering with the weight of a millstone fastened snuggly around my neck. Bicycles scattered on lawns like crooked tombstones in a graveyard. No sounds of children on the street, only the noxious humming of air conditioners. Earthworms dried to the concrete in crazy geometric shapes, crunching under my running shoes, pulverizing to dust, corpses in my tread. Sweat trickles down my neck in raging rivulets feeding into one large river that melts at the small of my back. Winter never looked so good. Aleathia Drehmer 2006 Published by Poor Mojo's Almanac(k)