Vignettes
Thoughts that turns into scenes, some absurb.
Derelict Lick and Stick Thin Brick
I really find this brick basic, it's got the thickness of a yard stick, the gleam of a dirty dish, and the corners are crisp like OfficeMax printer paper. You couldn't do better than selling me brick thin as sliced Wonder bread, told me to paste it up. You thought this portland mixed slander spread between thin brick lick and stick would make a mason proud? I'm going to scream out loud. Yell at you to go walk in nature for a spell, pick some berries, contemplate what you've done to the built realm. And if you can't find an end to this hideous menace you made, maybe a stumble you could take, right into a bed of snakes. You're one of them anyway. But I still must live, with this built disease, until it falls off, and clonks me on the head while I try to breathe. So I hurry on by, try to pay it no mind, but it grabs my mind, and pulls me into despair at your lack of design.
A Tick Before Quarter Past Three
I'm dead serious. This man, he washed up on the riverbank. Began mumbling about boats, oars, small sacks of potatoes and where he put his charger cable. I think he's insane, so, I asked him his opinion on if it will rain. "Well" he says, and let's keep in mind it's August 17th, 1912, he whips out this black box of shiny preponderance, does a tap and a click, lets out a hum, and exclaims, "3:14PM." I ask inquisitively, you mean quarter past three? He says maybe. So, I tipped my straw hat, wished him good day, tapped my heels, and galloped away. Found a place for a quick meal, and by golly, as I was waiting for the salty meats and aged cheese, I felt a drop, thank god not a pigeon this time, those bastards, and looked down, a tick before quarter past three, blinked twice, and ran for cover while thunder rolled in behind me.
Denile All the Way
Today, on the day of our Lord, 253, give or take a thousand years, I observed this real specimen of a creature. Emerged right from the riverbank. Stark and bleak. Pierced my glass, dead in the eyes, felt him through the telescope. Lost hope in distance, took a step back, racked my back right into a stack of neatly stacked clay, baking for the day in the sun, then stumbled into a basket of wet mud. I groaned, the masons groaned, and by the time I tried to clock the river side dock to see what shock this creature had brought I realized my glass was covered in goop of clay. Nay, you thought this was an American bay. Nah, this is actually Nile side Egyptian time travel with a SciFi bae who was giggling this whole time, not paying mind to the specimen we reached for across time. I got my frill coat, she's got that jump suit with the frumple front. The shirtless lads, looking at us like we're not from around here. Well, no my dears, clearly we are from here. Shit, they don't speak English. Well, the creature is gone, I've got to get back across the pond, and baby is going to go rabid if we don't get her back to 2014 for a latte from the coffee shop down by the San Francisco Bay, and 1997 for a Detroit rave, by end of someone's today.
The View Could Be Better
I'm in my ride, barely make the curb, in this 8,820lb box of pedestrian razing glee. Order a tea, ask for a side of french fries but add the salad so I know I'll be healthy. Look to my side, ponder why the side view looks as bad as the backview and isn't much different than the front view. Bemoan the EIFS, alas just storefront glass with no rhythm or hierarchy, surely, as I eat my meal in this parking lot, the view could be better. So I park next to the river, three spots I've taken, without a mind for the shaken people I've breezed by with my trailer in tow. Eat in my air conditioned cab looking at nature but not partaking, surely that is too much, even if I sweat in dust on the daily. I continue my drive, pull into my four stall garage with a house somewhere beside. Ask my wife, why things seem so bland everywhere I sigh.