Monday, May 24, 2010

We sat and roasted on the slow roof of her house, drinking beers and tossing the empty bottles into her swimming pool, where they shattered or plopped.

We laughed as the cats light footed about, jumping at flies, then dragon flies and, as the evening wore on, fire flies.

The sandwich delivery guy was very unsure at first, but we coaxed him to both (A) run to the liquor store, and (B) toss the beer, the ice, the ordered sandwiches onto the roof.

What did it was, one of us shouted: We can't come down, you're standing in lava! And we tipped him $30.

It was that kind of summer.