It was cold. I stood on the doorstep of
my house, and looked at the blue car
sitting in the driveway. It has not been
running for years-my Uncle Samuel
said he would fix it later, and never got
around to it.
I don’t know why I trusted him with it.
He’s an American, aren’t Americans supposed
to be efficient with cars? I never knew about
about that part.
My fridge is getting low on cold foods.
The cows are in the barn, mooing for attention.
Winter comes in six short months. I hurry down
the steps and wonder why I am hurrying.