The Latest Hit

by Greg Hill

At this time of day, the sun sashaying in a buoyant sky shimmers, a river of cellophane-wrapped penny candies, off the westbound lane in front of the recently repainted, light green, mid-century Colonial at Twenty-Four Nineteen Broadleaf Drive, where the newly baptized baby’s older cousins make up games in the front yard while hot gossip, cold beer, and charcoal lighter fluid pour generously in the back, portable speakers distorting the latest hit of the season. Five: the driver shifts again. Four: the car lurches. Three: in the rearview, he counts the sirens. Two: a red ball bounces across the road. One.

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Greg Hill is an experimental poet and adjunct professor of English in West Hartford, Connecticut. In the Before Times, he used to shave his face. His interests include quantum physics and toki pona. He tweets and has a website.