Michael Munas (michaelboy) wrote,
Michael Munas

With dirt ground into the knees of my jeans

When I was five, the crew that was building the road in front of our house would come to the door and ask for me, if on those rare summer mornings I wasn't out "helping" them.

I remember the cranes, bulldozers, loaders and backhoes. The dirt which was mostly clay smelled like diesel fuel and slag.

There are small pictures in everyone's life which seem to be a part of the foundation of that person. This is one of mine.
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