Hot wind blowing in from the chicken plant today & our parents think the All-Star team has a chance to make a deep run toward states (we won’t, it’s okay, who wants to peak at 12, all we want is to get out of here, which some of us won’t but that’s okay, too, sometimes what we want changes) & after practice we cross the bridge to watch the girls play softball & the river is so low it’s mostly rocks & some kid’s hat gets thrown down there & he has to go get it while we laugh at him & in our cruelty we feel the weight of our age & the ages coming toward us & the air smells like melted rubber & already the extra parts of us are being ground up into something usable, fertilizer maybe or maybe food for livestock.