A glass bottle coke rests nearby still dripping from the cracked blue cooler I scooped it out of.The gravel makes a rumbling sound under my bruised sneakers
as I shift them forward and back in sync with my chews on an overloaded sonoran hotdog.
The warm air sits at the table with us and blankets the moment with silence.
When I stand up, there's going to be a ring of sweat around my legs. I’m thinking about how extraordinary this is. The rattling of a spatula scraping around in the griddle as he cooks.
The bugs that crawl onto my legs and the way there is such big life and tiny life all at once.
Reggaeton echoes from the grimy white trailer we ordered from and my heart pumps to its Rhythm. I am careful to sip my coke with hazard, knowing that as soon as it is empty, it's time to Go. You didn't tell me that all of your days have been feeling a little too heavy, but I understood and our playful gestures affirmed it would be okay. You next to me and the ants swarming the little pieces of jalapeno and onion that slide off my bun and the man that cooked our food. This weird collection of beating, breathing beings that remind us this life is viable Despite it all. That to stand in front of the skillet and serve up sonoran hotdogs and cool glass cokes is an incredible deed to society. That I already knew you were going to peel off the coke label in a long and slow manner and tuck it away into your pocket and thats because these are the things that make a person. That the little pieces of dry sand that stir up in the breeze and blow past us and then eventually blend into the dimming sky and the buzz of the street lights turning on for the night are all majestic. And that this moment is good and heavy and something I tell you I will hold onto for a long time.
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