The Water Bearer

What he said was so unexpected, so enigmatic that I found myself walking the short distance between our yards to stand near him.

He looked at me with rheumy eyes, and I smelled tobacco, beer, but mostly musty age.

“That old puddle bothering you, Jim?”

Pulling on his cigarette, he looked away. “Yes, sir. Why tear out everything that took so long to grow, and leave something like that; something that just...filled up?”

He took three long drags from his cigarette and let the smoke gather around his head, blue and diaphanous.

“It’s just a pond, Jim. It’s not even that deep.”





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This is me: home-writer, book-reader, dog-lover and occasional poet. I make this website to share my and my friends texts with You, dear Reader. Please: read carefully, don't be scary, upgrade your mood and be king and leave your comment. :)