Can there be mist in the desert? Surely not. It must be my imagination, as if I'm personifying the lost memories of this deserted town. I used to live over there, on the second story of that building above a general store my dad ran.
Believe it or not, this intersection was crowded. I would bet with my friends the kind of taxi that would pass by or count the old ladies crossing the street with their sacks of groceries.
Now it's just a pile of sand. No people and fewer walls. No second story.
Across the way was an apartment building my friend Jim lived in. He and I would climb onto the roof and aim luggies at passers by. And over there was a old polish man who ran a hot dog stand. I remember my Dad said it was disappointing the old man never sold brats or polish sausage. Instead he just had the Oscar Myer wieners you'd seen in Walmart. Nothing special, but he was always there. A staple of the street.
Now it's just h