Triple Digits – James Gabriel

the air is fire
smelling not of burning wood
but the daily newspaper
wadded in large balls
and the men

skin brown and leathered
standing under the receding shadows
as the sun reaches it apex
a group of workers lean on a
broken green pickup

wood cracked and bleached
wedged in the truck bed
white paint reads:
Junk Collection
Call for Estimate

About the contributor: James Gabriel is a writer and poet. His first collection of poetry, “Black Atlas” is available at Amazon & iTunes. He lives in Los Angeles, California.