where's the party?

where's the party?

The directions to the engagement party said head west on Excelsior, take the third right onto Maple, and continue to Greenfield. No mention at all of swayback cows staring out from behind barbed wire. Or such wind! Like the mistaken zeal of Socrates’ executioners. High up, a hawk aerobicized. Unless it was a crow. Love itself was a kind of sweet tumult, swigging Robitussin and wearing only one shoe.