Foliage I place my boot on the neck of this commie bone bag, the toe resting on his chin. I think, I hate this wet heat he breathes. At least there is no rain in it--for now. I hate his elusive sky, too. A sky filled with foliage, unlike the limbs and leaves of the hickory or oak trees back home. "Slats, you and Mad-dog planning to marry that commie beaner," Luke hissed at me. …showed first 75 words of 1846 total…

…showed last 75 words of 1846 total…that rabbit eyes shout with eloquence. The team smiles a single smile as I leave my teary dreams struggling up through the wet air behind me. Visions of predator and prey fade; I, too, become the soup, and the mud, and the foliage. James Dan Johnson Bibliography I am a 44 year old retired US Navy Nuclear Submariner. I am now a Senior at ASU seeking my B.A. in History with a minor is Sociology.