Image via Creative CommonsOutside one morning,
waiting for the bus,
and still half asleep,
I rested my head against a fence post
and my foot on the bottom
strand of wire.
"What are you doin'?"
he hollered from the front porch.
I hollered back.
He whipped me twice;
once for having my foot on the wire
and once more for lying about it.
For Mary's Mixed Bag at Real Toads