Blade and Bristles

Pop! Out of the tissue box. Buddy locked into my ribs. Scrambled straight past the front screen door—fresh outdoor air! Right on the top porch step: an iron boot scraper. Two fat bristle brushes on the sides, skinny metal blade right across the center. Jump! Clink! My loop feet locked onto the cold iron ridge. Low morning light beamed across the wood. Stiff coir bristles brushed my ankles. Scratch, scratch! Pure buzz. We stood perched on the narrow blade, wind in our loops, peering straight down the front walk. The whole street is wide open!