Dugouts

The air smelled like trees tonight.

In the dugout on the wooden bench three empty Millers stood up in their thin cardboard case. Further down the bench two more empty Millers stood up on their own. In the grass behind the dugout lay the sixth Miller. It was not quite empty. There was a yellow liquid in the bottom of the clear bottle.

A little further away there was a large puddle of puke. My dog thought real hard about whether or not she should eat it. People come to the park to drink and puke. Motherfuckers.

In the other dugout four or five people were sheltering from the rain and smoking dope. Other people's dope always smells sweet as a roller derby girl. They laughed and coughed and told me, "That's a cool fucking dog you got there dude," after the Hammer had introduced herself and breathed in a few lungfuls.

One of the best things about dope is that when people smoke it in the park they hardly ever vomit when they are done.