Backyard Emancipation

The slow simple lull of a spring afternoon, sun fades, shade is cool. A dog lazily drifts asleep in a plot of grass no bigger than a handyman's measuring tape. A small and unassuming parcel, but to the dog and his owner half the world fits in between their rock wall. Grass made of desert thistle, still softer the a brush with worn down bristles. Birds perch upon an awning, their droppings paint chairs and table in a brown and white snow. The man sweeps and wipes the patio clean. He sips a tangy apple cider as the breeze mutes the city's horns and sirens. His thoughts float across El Paso, through knotted cacti and twisting tumbleweeds. Out beyond this fenced in place that overflows with serenity. Drifting along current and time resting on Beach natives call sublime. There in the distance, a figure emerges, her hair is dark, wavy and dripping of sea. His dog awakes and barks to reenter their modest abode, the man takes another sip from his sweating cup, rubbing his finger wet from condensation remembering how it felt to touch his lover's emancipation.