| back Sunflower Seeds. It’s a hot day. I have my window down. I pull up to the light on 9th at Pacific. In the turning lane to my left, I am startled by a spitting sound. I look over just as the car’s driver, a 20-something black woman, says to a small boy in the back seat, “Boy, I told you not to take out those sunflower seeds... now sit down!” The boy smiles at me, a shell hanging from his lips. The light goes green. I go too. 8/21/95 |