Yellow Dogs

7 Jan

A yellow dog floated past my window.  The night was hot, and I rose from the bed in only my underwear.  I smeared the heel of my hand through some of the grit on the pane and peered out into the night.  The black sky over the city was full of floating yellow dogs.  Some were as small as mice, others as large as ponies.  But they all hung above the flashing city, wagging their various tails like personal flags.

This heat wave will end, I thought.  Someday I may afford an air conditioner.  It is August now.  Come September, who knows where this life might find me?  I flipped the latch and opened the window.  I stuck my head out into the night and took a deep breath of the oily city air.


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