by B.K. McDonald
Feeling heady from the bottle of Burgundy I drank with dinner, I was playing silly games with my first born this evening. We were pretending to be dinosaurs, and today was Plateosaurus's birthday. "Blow out the candles," I said to the late Triassic creature... "Bfffpth." "Did you make a wish?" "Yes, I wished for a real, live puppy dog," replied the plateosaurid prosauropod dinosaur. I marveled over a creature that could wish for something 200 million years into the future.
B.K. McDonald, a writer and urban designer, is a lover of food, wine and word. He's been published in various journals, has a book coming out this Fall, and is currently living in America's Heartland, along America's River, drowning in a sea of corn, suffocating amidst an air of mediocrity. He is the author of The Shoemaker.