Tuesday, August 1, 2017

a day in sweater and slacks near the surf.

I took my walking stick out for a day in sweater and slacks.  I had picked up two empty soda bottles and put them in my pockets to discard later.  When I got near the shore, I heard an awful little squeal.  It was an egret, injured, in the shallows where the water is stale and murky, on the verge of turning green, completely stagnant.

I picked up the egret and felt its little weight against my breast.  It shook with fear, but I stroked it gently and whispered to it that I was it's new good friend.  I stifled back a sneeze, inside me, knowing the violence of a sneeze just then would probably stop the egret's little heart.  I took it home to the parlor where I chewed up some worms and gently spit them into the birds mouth, where the bird gobbled them up with delight!

Later, I put on a film of movie, not Lucio Fulci fare, but an old exploitation vehicle nonetheless.  On the screen:

"YOU BE LIS'NIN' TO SPACE WILLIE!  I AM THE RULER OF THE NIGHTTIME WORLD!"

And, of course, there was one white girl in the crowd.

You know that.

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