Papers
in sack, the route
has
just begun;
three
miles of delivery.
A shortcut
is what we
seek
today. If you cut
through
the yard and hop
the
fence, a field will cut
your
route in half;
one
point five miles.
Cupping
my hands
John
steps on them
and
leaps over it.
I
back up and run,
jumping
with great force,
and
climb the fence.
The
field is abandoned,
houses
line the edges.
Easy we chuckle.
One
point five miles
on
a hot, sticky
summer
day. Pow! Pow!
John
turns towards the sound.
A
toothless grin smile
is
our greeting.
You boys are trespassing!
he
screams, eyes popping out.
Run John! I yell, the shotgun
taking
aim. We zig-zag
sprint
our way out alive.
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