Valley of the Hummingbirds

About 10 miles removed from chaos and asphalt we visited a ghost town. It had decayed somewhat into a tourist trap. Half the buildings were repurposed or refurbished only a few looked like originals but nobody cared enough to pan the gold from the sand. My friend gobbled an oversized ice-cream cone and became a child again for a few moments. I bought a tie-dyed t shirt that promoted something that the town no longer was. Outside an antique shop, a middle-aged couple sat like stones... without a smile between them. They had the look of a salesman who hadn't sold anything for some time or maybe it was the look of irreplaceable loss. I took a quick gander at their wares thought about purchasing a vintage bird bath with a greenish angel straddling its dusty lip... but deemed it would seem to be an act of blatant charity. There were hummingbird feeders everywhere and the hummers obliged with a flashy show dive bombing like Japanese zeros high on fake sugar and Hirohito propaganda fearless amidst the tourists and tourist trappers. We left the ghost town to the valley of the hummingbirds. I hadn't seen a ghost but held out hope that they'd appear in my off-center photos.