Is it summer or is it spring will it rain or
Will the sun continue to kiss my long torso and petit feet?
Storms always seem to blow over in the Midwest as a dog bounces right past me, gives me a look and goes completely, merrily on his way. He doesn't seem to concerned about the weather.
Nor, should I be. I am going to stay put and ignore the neighbor. He dying to talk to me and I won't even lift my head to see the noise he makes in hope of a turn
He'll never receive the bone he is looking for, this dog on a mission his fur all and wet from a swim. His ears floppy and tail short if he comes by again and gives me a wink, I'll know the coast is clear from whatever task is complete.
  My book is in the car which isn't terribly far but to leave my seat and get on my feet seems like such a chore when the wind is blowing my hair and my green tea can cold a pack of cigs and I think I'm already gold. The book can wait, it's taking a twist Maria doesn't seemed too concerned about her lovers death but consumed by the clandestine love affairs when all the glares she thought were hers were now shared with a shoebox full of letters, cards and daring pictures along aside gift cigars.
The lake is calm I'm happy I'm here rather than the busy streets where I'm always on the go but instead I can kick back and enjoy taking it slow.