We were so bored. Jimmy had his pinkie shoved right up his nostril past the first knuckle.
I had picked all the scabs from both knees and started on my elbow.
It was so hot.
Jimmy went over to the sidewalk and stepped on a line of ants. He started jumping around, stomping his feet like King Kong.
He must have killed a thousand ants. I got up and killed a bunch, myself. The ants just kept coming. It was so hot.
We sat down in the shade. Would ya look at those ants, said Jimmy. We are so screwed.
About the author
T.L. Murphy is a retired carpenter, a published poet, and an avid skier. He grew up in Chapel Hill, North Carolina, U.S.A. and emigrated to Canada in 1978. He lives in Canmore, Alberta, Canada, on the east side of the Canadian Rocky Mountains about 20 miles from the Continental Divide.
He is a performance poet and has shared the stage with many prominent Canadian poets. He is appointed Poet Laureate of Canmore, a position he will hold for one year. His poems, fiction and non-fiction have appeared in a variety of journals and anthologies and have been translated into Greek and Chinese.