Attracted by the morning sun And by the people who Toss wondrous crumbs into the sky That every bird with brains must try. What else is there to do?
We go in different directions down the imperturbable street like Joe and Jim after their argument. Joe pounded the imperturbable shooing away crows. Jim crumbled bread tossing it to them.
At the end of the block they both headed north: Joe weighing dark thoughts, Jim littering the imperturbable with crumbs. At the end of those blocks they witlessly turned back toward each other.
They bumped into each other outside Jerry’s secret laboratory. Jerry was assembling, with his usual dexterity, a “Teach Em All A Lesson” bomb (details in Chapter 32). As Joe saw Jim, Jerry clicked the final chip into place and rubble buried the street. Joe’s last words were “You again!” Jim was wondering if he had more bread. Those investigating the scene figured Jerry didn’t have enough time to even say “oops”.
No crow with a brain in its head was injured.
A cow is screaming across the arroyo. Looking up I pay attention to what’s around me. I notice the multicolored, fat fish in the arroyo which turns into a pond and then into a wishing well under the skylights of some mall. I photograph them with my phone to prove all this really happened.
The only coin I have in my pocket is a new penny. Perhaps they won’t mind. I toss it into the well so it can sparkle with the others like stars on the ocean floor.
Resuming my walk I wonder, as I likely should be wondering about everything, What was that all about? I decide to write a to-do list for my next walk just in case.
Linked to dVerse Prosery. Linda Lee Lyberg is hosting with the sentence “A cow is screaming across the arroyo”. It comes from Jim Harrison’s poem “Cow” which appeared in Dead Man’s Float.
This poem is a can of soup,
But please don’t try to drink it.
It’s real, I guess, well, more or less.
Perhaps more less would be my guess,
So only try to think it.
Linked to dVerse Meeting the Bar where Victoria C. Slotto hosts with the theme “Pop Art”. The can of soup refers to Andy Warhol’s Campbell’s Soup Cans to stay within the theme just in case it wasn’t obvious.
Bart looked left and right at the majestic Atlantic Ocean, the blue skies and hot sandy beaches. It was 90 degrees. He told the real estate agent, “I suppose if the global economy heats up so much that the ice caps melted then all of these high-rise condos would turn into part of the Everglades.”
“I’ve been waiting for it to happen for over two decades.”
“This place could sink into the ocean. I wonder who’d want to live here then?”
“I’m sure the alligators wouldn’t mind.”
Bart agreed with the agent: Better buy while the ground’s still dry.
Linked to Carrot Ranch. The theme this week for the 99-word stories is “without ice”.
Were I this bug I’d be wondering when that guy with the phone camera will find something better to do.
Linked to Linda G. Hill’s One-Liner Wednesday.
Being cats, being smart, his cats would
Run away since he’s up to no good.
“I’ll try mice! Ah! They squeak!
Now I won’t have to peek.”
Even mice ran when they understood.
Text: Linked to dVerse Meeting the Bar. Bjorn is hosting with a call for poems using onomatopeia. I think “squeak” qualifies. Maybe “peek”? Reading Silver Gardenia’s poem “New Tricks” linked to Tuesday’s dVerse Poetics gave me the idea of associating mice rather than cats with Schrodinger.
Photos: “Incoming Storm”, above, “If the Mice Don’t Work Here are Some Geese”, below.
How will the people in your life be happy if you aren’t?
Linked to Linda G. Hill’s One-Liner Wednesday.
The chapel at the college Thomas and I attended had a storage room in its attic. Thomas and I went there one afternoon. We weren’t supposed to, but that made it all the more intriguing. There was enough light coming through a dirty window to see desks, equipment and oddly beds piled haphazardly around the walls. This dusty place made Thomas think of a tale of demon possession. He told stories well with facial expressions that kept my attention. The last sentence of his story, spoken while he looked suspiciously at me, was, “The devil could possess anyone.”
I say that was the last sentence, because at that point in the story, assuming there was more, a beetle, big and ugly, started bouncing up and down on the ceiling high above us. We thought the bug had gone bonkers. Besides, the bouncing was loud enough to stop Thomas from continuing his story with further hints of my being possessed by something or other. We looked up at the bug. Thomas looked at me. He had an idea. While the bug bounced up and down, up and down, Thomas cautiously crossed his two index fingers and raised his arms to target the noisy bug through them. The moment his eyes, the finger cross and that bug lined up so he could get a good shot—right at that moment—the bug soundlessly dropped to the floor.
RUNNING FROM THAT ROOM’S
SPOOKY SPRINGTIME BOUNCING BUG
BEETLE’S TURN TO SMILE
Text: Linked to dVerse Haibun Monday. Lillian is hosting. Haibun should have two paragraphs of prose about something that really happened. I can’t forget that bug. There should be a “kigo” on the second line of the haiku representing the season. Mine is “springtime”. The haiku should break in two parts at a “kiregi”. I think mine breaks between springtime and bouncing when attention shifts from us rushing out of that room to the smiling bug. By way of disclosure, neither of us went back to see if the bug was actually smiling. That’s just what I would do were I that bug and I assume only the prose part has to be factual.
Photos: “Upstairs Toward the Blue”, above, and “Climbing”, below.