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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Three vehicles parked in a circle. A modern wagon train. Inside the sanctuary of the circle, instead of children playing as they did in the days of the covered wagons - empty bottles, a gas stove, bags of dog food, wrinkled clothes, wet towels, folding chairs and food wrappers. Everything is varnished with a blue, wet cold. Mom, Dad and teenage boys spend a lot of time inside the vehicles with their dogs. They read, listen to the radio, play with damp cards, tell stories, and dream of the time when they can have hot water tumbling over them in their new home. They are up at four to start the cars to warm up a bit. Then, a few hours of sleep before the little car pulls out in the dark, on it's first mission of the day to take the boys to school, a few miles away. Four dogs. Two brown ones, one black and white one, and a new, brown one rescued when a far-away, family member died during their stay in the church field. The black and white dog runs out to the end of his rope until it is stopped quick with the choke chain. They all would like to get away, off their chains... The boys, wash their long hair from water warmed a bit in the sun on the hood of dad's car. Sometimes I catch mom or dad drying their hair with big, orange towels. Some mornings, I see them walk over the dirt hills of the bicycle park to the public bathrooms. They walk slowly, carrying their towels and the weight of their plight.
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