She wants us to go to a fire party.
That forest fire, above Canyon Road, that is near their house, maybe 1500 yards away. Fred wants us to attend a fire party.
FLAMING LEAVES BY BEN UMAYAM 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 101
We are discussing the mysterious thing when Fred calls. She has a guy name. But she is a gal. She and lover Ginger retired and live in this mountain town. She managed an-all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet place in Mississippi. Ginger was a security guard. They decided to study IT and got in before it was the thing to do. “Made a shitload of dough,” Fred puts it. “Enough to retire at 59.” They play in the snow during ski season, camp and canoe all over in the warm months, even though Fred has two knees replaced, Ginger, one hip.
Every weekend they invite us to join them. We always decline. “You won’t catch me sleeping in a bag on the forest floor, not at my age,” Ian says. He tells me why Fred called. “That forest fire, above Canyon Road, that is near their house, maybe 1500 yards away. Fred wants us to attend a fire party.” We decline of course. We are on the way to Denver for a concert.