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“What about them?” “Times Square,” the old lady piped up. “He’s going to see the naked painted girls.” “Mama where’d you come up with such an idea?” “Naked painted girls?” “Ignore her.” The old lady waved her fork. “I heard you telling Deeter.” Luanne’s eyes had narrowed to slits. He got up and increased the cold on the free-standing air conditioner. The thing was a piece of shit. He should have fixed the damn window and put back the proper window unit. “Mama doesn’t know what she’s talking about.” “I sure as heck fire do.” “Look. I can’t take an old woman into gas station bathrooms. Someone sees, the next thing you got the cops on your back for indecent actions.” Luanne just sat there lighting another cigarette. “Tell them it’s your mama. That she has arthritis and can’t get on the bowl by herself. The cops will understand. It’s part of their compassion training.” “You’re saying you won’t stay here with Mama?” She smacked open the screen door. After pouring more coffee for the old lady, he followed Luanne outside. She’d perched on the rail of their small front deck. She looked small, as well. Even the sun, as it neared noontime. Small. Glowing unnaturally orange with a mist. “That sun look orange to you?” he said. “I hear the tide swells yesterday brought in some real choice crab. Too bad we have no restaurant anymore.” 123

Profile for Mojave River Media

Mojave River Review spring/summer 2019  

The Mojave River Review spring/summer 2019 issue spotlights superb poetry and prose by brilliant contributors from around the globe. Enjoy 2...

Mojave River Review spring/summer 2019  

The Mojave River Review spring/summer 2019 issue spotlights superb poetry and prose by brilliant contributors from around the globe. Enjoy 2...

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