The Forbidden One
We take turns running down the street, following the nightly mosquito truck. Whoever gets closest to the fog of spray goes first in the next game. We crawl on our hands and knees under a break in the dense thicket, emerging in a snuggery of twigs. Dark and cozy, yet just enough dusk light left to see. Without a word, without touching, we form a circle, sit cross-legged on the cool dirt floor. I swallow a giggle. e only sound, the buzz of insects, and the old coke bottle, spinning and spinning.
the mating dance