Wet Sidewalk, Tripping On Something Invisible

The bed
a display case
for loneliness
In case
of emergency
break glass
poster boy
for loss
cut up
not across

He rode the bus downtown, this short bearded elven creature with the boots and the red hat. He kept great time, automatically adjusting to the beat of any song, anything making noise. The motion of the bus, the windshield wipers, a truck backing up, he somehow kept the rhythm going. How did he do this? Simple. He was a metro gnome.

His charm unexpectedly unexpected
It had a short shelf life, didn’t it?
And it all ran out
Down the wrists, while winds blew
From the south, warm salty air
He would have done anything for you
Probably still would, if you reversed course
If you could speak
Now he spins
Flinging droplets of himself
Upon the white walls
The red bricks getting redder
But he won’t die
That would be too easy
Karma has been standing there tapping her foot
She’s anxious to pay him back

There was a tree who had birds living among its branches. It got a sense of their essence, and slowly formed thoughts, as trees often do, slowly. These thoughts all led down the twigs, down branches, to the trunk, and coalesced into a single wish. The tree wanted to fly like a bird. So one day, it sent messages somehow, through its leaves, to all the animals living in it, who gathered flocks and flocks of birds to every available surface on the tree. Even some insomniac bats joined in the fun. They all grabbed the tree with their talons or claws, and flapped their wings as hard as they could. And soon, they began slowly but surely creating a lot of wind that the tree felt in its leaves. It was beautiful! The tree felt a little lighter as the avian creatures flapped for all they were worth. Slowly but surely, the tree did absolutely nothing. Trees weigh like 3000 times as much as all the birds put together. Even a helicopter with a winch attached would not be able to pull the tree out of the ground. Are you kidding me? Birds can’t lift a tree! The tree is stuck right there. It can’t go anywhere, whether it wants to or not. That’s not what trees do. The tree had a false impression of its potential, buttressed by ambitions that exceeded its abilities and the abilities of those around it. It had unrealistic expectations of what would happen. If the tree shed some things, those things could fly for a bit. If the tree was totally transformed into firewood, or studs, or a shield, or any other wooden thing, it could travel around, in bits and pieces. It could even become part of a thing that flew. But only in bits and pieces. Parts. Or in radical changes, like death by furniture. There is no metaphor or moral here. Except this one:

The only way to do something different is to be something different.


20 thoughts on “Wet Sidewalk, Tripping On Something Invisible”

    1. It’s all over the place, but I’m glad you like it. I was going to split it up, but I think different styles and formats can work well together. The four pieces are a metaphor for interpersonal harmony in that way.

      Also, I was too lazy to split them up.

      Liked by 1 person

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