| dewy decimal |
2003-05-13 - 1:02 a.m.
Upon my request, my Mom and Dad stepped out into the breezy night with me. I jumped on my ten-speed and let gravity pull me through the cool night air..down, down, down. Dad followed my cue as my Mom took our dog, Kola, and led her on her olfactory adventures through the grassy margins of Kealakaha Dr.
I�ve been wearing my handkerchief around my face lately. I imagine that I am on some anonymous crusade for a variety of causes for the youth. My Dad advises me to remove it because I look like a �hooligan�. I comply as I zip past Angel�s old house where once we constructed our makeshift tree house throughout the summer of 89.
Kola sniffs the base of the Pang�s mailbox where our neighbors dog has left a cryptic scent, scribbled loosely in dog piss.
A second, a third, a fourth wind shoots me past my parents. Past the new tenants and their kids, on the corner, who are taking out the trash in front of the house where the Evans� 5 five-A�s (Andrew, April, Amanda, Abigail, and Adam) used to live. A beautiful fern pours itself out in front of the wall I would hide behind during our old games of hide and seek.
Mr. Zane�s cluttered garage buzzes almost unnoticeably with the uselessness of his bug zapper. Varieties of vines conquer the rusted pans, doomed appliances, and car parts that conquer his driveway.
All these common sights giving birth at night. My worn brakes squeek and screech, alarming Kola who is, in fact, walking Mom underneath the bouganvellia, whose flower lets the streetlight pass through it�s tissuey, lavendar filter.
I pump, pump, pump my way to the top, turn, and fall through the dates, people, and sounds down our street and then our steep driveway where I reawake to the screeching of my bike�s modern brakes.