Saturday, April 18, 2015

A short story

The dog ran into Mexico and I had to go after him. The Rio Grande was narrow here and Bud saw a horse come to graze at dusk and he saw his chance for a little fun. Too bad he doesn't know about geopolitical and economic boundaries. All Bud saw was a horse and some fun.

EPrata photo

I hear him barking in Boquillos now and I'm not looking forward to that guy selling mineral earrings again. He scared me with his pitiful intense desperation, 'look I made these aren't they beautiful' and then he touched my sleeve.

So I slip off my sneakers trying hard not to notice the myriad paw prints looking like hieroglyphics from big things came to graze. I tie the sneaks in a good knot and slip them over my shoulders. Feet slipping in the oozy mud, my prints now mingling with last night's predator and prey I run splashing loud across the river drowning out the cattails' whisper announcing my arrival in a foreign country without a passport.

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