Stood in his yard.
Breeved some.
Cigarette butt, between the ditch and the road, and that, well, was that not society, the somewhere in between, with Imminent Domain and all, and a bought and paid for domain and all.
"Nice garage" I said. "Bet that cost something." His house had all kinds of additions and things, ells and so forth, concrete patios, wooden contraptions, steps leading to the roof where there was a makeshift iron patio thing there.
"That's not a garage" he said. "That's my seventh."
"Dang." I said. "Sorry." I still kinda thought it was a garage, but I noticed a shoe string trailing off, some kind of marked kind of personification of the thing.
It was in fact, a giant Philistine ogre of a child, that one, what appeared at first some indefinite building add-on to the property.
Were we all not somewhere between, the Philistines and the Balantines and the all that, the Midianites and all them, part of our soul back in Sumer still howling at the moon, still lying down in the winter to make snow angels and all, still wishing on flower petals.
In some towns, I'm the feared revenge-seeking Golem of old, muddy visage and all, and yet in other towns, those that were the fearful are the Golem, such that sometimes, the windshield, and of course, conversely, sometimes the bug.
Society was what, a sweating wiener, some coals growing cold, black to red to white to red to gray.
"We've give her hormones when she was younger" he said. "Her legs were weak."
"And Bitcoin usedta be worth six dollars" I said, but only to myself.
No comments:
Post a Comment