Saturday, February 11, 2006

I came upon B.M. and S.M. while driving what appeared to be a soap box derby car down a narrow, rutted dirt road. They stood under a grove of trees which I understood to be their home.

"What are you up to?" I asked.

"We're tearing old men out of each others' chests," B. replied. S. was evidently pregnant and I took this comment to be a wry allusion to the fact.