(it’s scaffolding) (it’s supposed to be temporary) (the domino effect) (had been forgotten about) (it was in storage) (nobody knew where) (that’s a logging road) (you can see its gutters) (they leave handprints) (they shudder with dolor) (nobody could settle on any particular color) (they meant different things to different people) (for luck) (on the cheap) (stop now) (flesh for sale) (fresh fruit) (insect free) (aquafarm) (moon control) (it was label-resistant) (nobody knew how to embroider it) (it felt like hailstones) (big as tombstones) (it strained everyone’s intelligence) (we had tooth problems) (we’d been flying too much) (our edges were curling) (we were like silt over sand) (we felt as if we were sugar dissolving in lime juice) (it was heavy-handed) (we were covered with treadmarks) (it was cosmetic) (like crystal handcuffs) (we were fish then) (we wanted our ladders) (most of them were rotten) (we can cut down some trees and build new ones) (we can contrive it out of convection) (say you’re a weatherman) (seed them some clouds) (remember how it felt to be scuds on a mountain) (we had good motivations) (like treeroots buckling up sidewalks) (we worked like treeroots) (we’d go anywhere looking for water) (we were hydrologists then) (we had stewpots) (we were fast-breaking) (we were aerosol) (we had currency) (we were paper airplanes) (our creases were in all the right places) (we hadn’t been stratified so many times) (it was because they were eye-minded) (they couldn’t see us) (we weren’t eyefuls) (we were just something to take note of when they weren’t working) (we were like scrimshaw) (you were one of the ones covered with flags and lady liberty) (she was an eyeful) (we were hay rolls) (then we were haywire) (we needed paperweights) (we needed dollys) (it was money-laundering they did as a sideline) (one little cooking fire stirred up all of that cloudcover) (we were walking through a ghosttown) (it was a terrestrial globe) (it wasn’t any bigger than an eyeball) (it was at the bottom of a fishbowl) (there weren’t any fish in it) (the water was gone) (and it looked as if it had been con- signed to oblivion) (do you still have it) (it’s somewhere around) (we tried to put it in a safe place) (in one of the treetrunks) (act like a lumberjack) (show them your blue ox) (your animal companion) (show them the marks left where you merged) (they said they were covered with scruples) (they needed some tearlifts) (you can seed them with dryice) (that will use up all of the liquid assets we have left) (then we can sell off some of the dunking contraptions) (we don’t need them) (we can act the way hummingbirds act) (we can fight the way hummingbirds fight) (you can wear your red vest) (you can wear your red cowboy hat) (it looks awful) (as if it were made for television) (the worst kind) (remember the scripts that were written to teach us something) (past the stratosphere the sky isn’t blue anymore) (we were unteachable) (we were woodblocks) (we lived in a sawmill) (when there was lightning) (it nearly burned down) (we were unwashed) (we were scoured) (we felt untouch- able) (and somewhat equivocal again in our science) (you were always exact to me) (like a storm cellar) (I liked it near your airstreams) (you never called me a social parasite and I felt good about that) (you never said things like the handwriting is on the wall) (you never said we were biding our time) (you weren’t a warden) (you weren’t a damper) (you didn’t live in a chimney) (you didn’t work for management) (we were still under construction) (there were warning signs all over us) (in that shocking pink orange) (like we’d been pickled) (as if we were beets or some other kind of root vegetables) (you weren’t a gladiator) (you weren’t resistant) (you weren’t a virus) (you didn’t know what a firewall was) (sometimes you did do a little fire-breathing) (not like a firebrand) (more like a fire that some- one banked in the evening waiting around until morning) (there were streets of clouds over the plains) (we were ice crystals) (laboratory grade)
Incident on the Road to the Capital
A wolf had grown tired of his character and sought to find a means to transform himself into something more vicious, more deadly. While his coat was slick, thick and well-colored, for he was an excellent hunter, he yearned for something to do that had nothing to do with survival or instinct. He no longer killed because he needed to or could. All that was useless, too practical, too obvious. He wanted to kill for some other purpose. For all of his successfully completed kills, his perfect record of stealth and elusion, he felt nothing. When he ran into me the other day on his journey to consult the oracle of escalated suffering we shared a table in the shade of a parasol tree in whose branches were preening half a dozen or so birds with gaudy chromatic feathers. A few of these fell onto the dome of his forehead but he was too engrossed in his story to brush them away. He didn't look like a very serious wolf. I think he was missing a real opportunity.