An Ode to the Turkey
Let me tell you, dear reader, nothing so wrenches the heart like turkey tears.
Let me tell you, dear reader, nothing so wrenches the heart like turkey tears.
The palm and mangrove trees were stripped of their leaves, and much of the vegetation on the island has turned brown.
The pure chaos of this new ride requires equally chaotic imbibing. Maybe one of those middle-school numbers where you mix all the soft drinks together?
Have you ever had an amber alert go off on your phone at an inopportune moment?
We’d set off toward Kice Island and everything would go as planned.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t contemplate the busted door as a sign from God that I should stay home, but I brushed that off right quick.
Who knew when we’d see each other again, with the pandemic rolling in and the economy flipping belly-up, with graduation and wedding and career plans scattering in the air like confetti.
“Fine. How about a chicken?”
I don’t know what home means without you.
These forty-nine deaths I have not died.