By: Mary Bone

After cleaning out my ice box,
I sailed rock hard tortillas
Out of my back door, not
Knowing where they would land.
I figured a stray dog would
Chew on them.
Pups could easily break
A tooth, I thought.
I scrambled, hurriedly,
To retrieve them, not
Wanting the neighbors to
See me through their back window.
No telling how long
The flying saucers
Had stayed in the twilight zone.