Grey. Grey skies. Grey clouds. Grey concrete roads. Just grey. I contemplate the golden soybean oil floating in the thai ginger soup. Nice to drink hot spicy soup on a rainy day. When it rains in Dallas, it pours. The rain drops bounce off the grey roads. Bouncing in all directions. Like my brothers. They bounce in all directions. Down the path that separates the living family space from the bedroom space in the house.
The layout of the neighborhood is a sea of roads with islands of houses. The water pours off the roofs of the houses down the gutters down the slopes of the lawn down the sidewalks down the drains down the sewers.
Down the alleys. Down the creeks, too. Yesterday Dad surprised us all with a tour of the neighborhood. Luckily, us includes Bubba and Grandpa are in town. Walk down sidewalks, crossing the main streets, until we find the entrance to an alleyway. There are probably as many alleyways as there are roads. Alleyways line the backs of houses. Mainly, people need a path to get to their cars into their garages. The alleys in Spanky Branch line the creeks. The creek beds are limestone. The soil here is soft loamy clay. Acorn trees grow tall, but not too wide. The tree roots clench the soft soil. The roots help keep the land intact. The concrete of the alleyways sometimes cracks. Cracks are lightning bolt patterns across stone instead of sky.
Railroad tracks, supported by crisscrossing wooden beams, cross over the creek at the side of the alleyway. There are rusted nails in the slats. Rain rusts things too. Water does not just flow, carrying leaves bottle caps cans cups shoes down alleys, but chemically reacts with objects.
Friendly white poodles bark in the backyards facing alleys. Bark at the passerbys in their alleys. Bark at rain. Bark at grey skies.
The layout of the neighborhood is a sea of roads with islands of houses. The water pours off the roofs of the houses down the gutters down the slopes of the lawn down the sidewalks down the drains down the sewers.
Down the alleys. Down the creeks, too. Yesterday Dad surprised us all with a tour of the neighborhood. Luckily, us includes Bubba and Grandpa are in town. Walk down sidewalks, crossing the main streets, until we find the entrance to an alleyway. There are probably as many alleyways as there are roads. Alleyways line the backs of houses. Mainly, people need a path to get to their cars into their garages. The alleys in Spanky Branch line the creeks. The creek beds are limestone. The soil here is soft loamy clay. Acorn trees grow tall, but not too wide. The tree roots clench the soft soil. The roots help keep the land intact. The concrete of the alleyways sometimes cracks. Cracks are lightning bolt patterns across stone instead of sky.
Railroad tracks, supported by crisscrossing wooden beams, cross over the creek at the side of the alleyway. There are rusted nails in the slats. Rain rusts things too. Water does not just flow, carrying leaves bottle caps cans cups shoes down alleys, but chemically reacts with objects.
Friendly white poodles bark in the backyards facing alleys. Bark at the passerbys in their alleys. Bark at rain. Bark at grey skies.