I looked out at mainstreet yesterday on break. Empty and cold. I know everyone in every building, almost. Which is as depressing as it is reassuring.
After work I packed my Tree essays into a box and hid them away in a dark corner (they've had me spinning in circles for a little too long). Then coveralls, toque, boots, and I was out the door and onto my lawn. It was just me, a fold-out chair, and the Crooked Tree seedling. I studied the texture of the bark and its already meandering shape. Thought about having a cigarette. Didn't.
I heard Clarke behind me. "That thing is gonna block my view in a couple years," he said, dragging a chair from his lawn onto mine.
I'd never considered that before. I said nothing.
"So tell me again why you planted this thing?" he grunted, sitting down.
"I dunno Clarke. But I'm glad I did."
2 comments:
Im still not sure that I wanted to be told why he put the essays in the corner, but there's nothing I can do about it now anyway. What do you think of that?
I love" Id never considered that before. I said nothing". It is like a mouth-open, but nobody notices moment of realization. Or not - the way it is written, you have let it be free. This moment is a great contrast to the dark corner that the essays (and the reader) are forced into in the second paragraph.
I am not going to be original this time, so all I am going to say that your blog rocks, sad that I don't have suck a writing skills
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