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A Summer Night
by Sid Harrison ETCM(SS) USN(Ret)

We would sit under yellow lights in the hot southern Ohio night and drink Pepsi's pulled from a box of handnumbing water. Lazily watching the occasional cars passing the dusty, bug-spattered gas pumps we leaned back inside the rims of display tires against the cement wall and munched our Zero bars until closing time.

Later, full of soft drinks and goo, having seen the last tire rolled inside and the last yellow light blinked off, with only the pink and green neon clock from the window illuminating us, we would pull up our bicycles and start the ride home.

Up the hot, empty highway's center with its two pale street lamps shining through the heavy July trees, we pedaled. Racing under those trees, standing and pumping furiously we topped the hill.

Then breathing hard, down the long summer night we rolled out from under the canopy of trees. Laughing and yelling; our moonwhite tee shirts blowing cool against us, we coasted between sweet smelling, silver fields into the night.