Chorizo

by Jaime Cortez

The dogs are melting. Lobo is lying on the porch with his pink tongue hanging out. Chiquita is hiding under the car with her ears down. Everybody is hiding from the sun except for me. I’m riding my bicycle, so I can feel some wind when I pedal. It’s not working too good. Past the tomato fields, I can see this family walking along San Juan Highway. Right away I know they ain’t doing so good. We’re not rich or nothing, but they look super poor, even from far away. They’re walking, so obviously they don’t have no car or

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