Gasoline and, inexplicably, cut grass waft in
on the mid-July breeze...
"Y'all got some grapes up in here?" asks
a brother on the make for some shake.
He's tall, big-boned and dark-skinned,
bearing a sheen of sweat under this sun,
which promises to bake us all to a crisp.
Footfall on light gray pavement and the sound
of an ambulance siren winds around
his much-abused inner ear.
Where once there was fear, now
there is hope. A crease smooths from his brow.
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