The liar sat at the table drinking his favorite beer.Calloused, bloated feet scuffed the tile and the ocean air breezed through the open windows. He ranted his gravel voice his views on politics, on prisons, on children.
He stood in the entry as we were going out, elated and stamped the booming floor, growled at them, clawed the air a stained hand, man as animal in jubilant pretend and the dog barked, shivering.
We took the boys to the beach so they chased the waves in and out and screamed happy fear, a child's fear of danger that never quite touches. But of a sudden they were quiet and sat making signs with driftwood. We laughed to them the meanings but their serious faces cast mystery.
Seagulls sounded the kind of cry that pierces a pleasant dream. The dog snapped at their shadows as they passed across the sand