HAZY, LAZY DAYS OF SUMMER.D

Endless blue sky ready to be scooped up like sherbet. Clouds appear and spread like white and brown foam. The highway worn gas pump clicks the price like an ancient inarticulate set of gears. Frank watches the attendant,a kid, uses the window washer and bucket. The eye watering, Mr Clean stench is weak. Frank figures there's a good portion of water in the bucket instead of cleaner. The suns' warmth wraps around Frank's arms. The station attendant struts up to the car; smile on his face. Twenty minuets later he's slumped against the Flying A pump hands pressed to his head. Dark velvet red blood drabbles from betweeen his rigomortis. Frank counts the money. It's another lazy, hazy highway day.