Fruit For Tiny Eyes
it was a magnificent mile up from his tiny eyes. its fruit sprinkled on his makeshift diamond. he rested on the stone wall that settled between the races. the hispanic party was on the left. the silver side on the right. both homes chuckled at the meager one seeking to reach the choicest fruit. the reddish yellow one, not plump yet, is what he favored. the neighbor kids assembled to tidy the field.
he didn’t perceive how they developed. a home run was a fly ball into the pavement. he views the pastime now with a crocked smile. produce tables are where he chooses his refreshments. recalling the encounters of the meager boys and girls, and how nice the hispanic household next door was to him. he wishes they are fine.
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