Muskrat's piecing together chemistry flashcards, a losing baseball game, bits of a bruised heart and ribs and beautiful cool rainless New Mexico September weather together into a labor day thanksgiving of maybe things will start on the up and up. With heavy cream and black currant scones cooling on the stovetop, Muskrat’s paws wrestles the chain over his rear wheel and back into place. Staring out towards the backyard garden and the Sandia’s over the cinderblock retaining wall, Muskrat wipes the black chain grease onto his white t-shirt and licks his coffee stained teeth. It’s Labor Day and his arms are feeling heavy and his little paws are scraping over memories of affection and lines of poetry in tattered paperbacks. Sam Cooke is singing on the radio, and the coffee is percolating on the stove top. The kitchen smells like burnt coffee, fresh scones, spilled cinnamon and frozen fish thawing on the counter for dinner over rainbow chard and basmati rice. Arching his back he could feel his ribs protesting and a cold glass of orange juice tasted like the holiday three day weekend.
I know it isn't much but I promise more to come soon. Happy labor day friends
Solidarity, hope, love and butterfly kisses to all
Ride free, live free, take care of your friends...