Wednesday, May 9, 2012

A Banyan Tree (as read by Brad Pitt using his "Interview With A Vampire" voice)

Spanish Moss dangles from the outstretched arms of the Banyan Tree.
Vines grip the trunk in symbiotic embrace.
Rodents scurry around in attempts to procure their next meal.
I watch and patiently wait...

The bench near the base is covered in graffiti; newspapers litter the bare ground where grass once grew.
Stagnant water from a nearby retention pond flows through her veins while reptilian death plies the waters, camouflaged in her roots.

Wrapped in plastic garbage bags held together by his own feces the soul of this tree has come to espouse the knowledge of the unseen world.
He argues with a "never was" confidant about a war he was to young to have fought and wine he couldn't possibly have drank.
His borrowed shopping cart filled to the brim with his "groceries" and delectable gains.

The aroma of filth and waste permeates the once clean air of the Banyan Tree and I wait patiently...

The Spanish moss dangles towards his plastic appendages and the vines grip his waist.
Rodents rummage through his things in search of the scraps of so many meals.
He argues with the photographs in the discarded newspaper and smears the bench with his essence.

The mismatched shoes drop into the murky waters with a splash and the reptiles submerge, filled with the expectancy of the sustenance that is sure to follow.
He soon joins his unseen friend in the nether reaches of existence and the reptiles feed on what the Banyan has left behind.
If only there were more Banyan Trees in this park...

Monday, May 7, 2012

A Morning Cup of Joe

There is a water tower off in the distance, I don't really know if there has been water inside of it in recent days, but it's painted a shimmering blue and wrapped with sea life of various sorts. One can easily be transfixed by the skill of the artist who so lovingly brought his underwater world to my morning sky. It's probably a meth lab...

I take my coffee black... no sugar, no cream, just black. Like some sort of spoiled rich girl from the suburbs with a daddy complex and a drinking problem. I feel like Heidi Klum right now...

There are a lot of hookers across the street this morning? Way more than usual? I wonder if they are horny?

Apparently Vladimir Putin was re-elected. I pretended to care for about thirty seconds until I remembered this awesome dance/lip-synching show from the eighties, "Puttin on the Hits," and all I could picture was Putin lyp-synching "You Spin Me Round." They should bring that show back.

Why does the garbage man have to be so loud? Is it really necessary to slam the cans around and loud talk? Maybe I should stop putting all of my discarded treasures out there? Then what will he do; just stand there scratching his head, peering into an empty can waiting for it to magically fill up with empty beer bottles and my wife's US Weekly magazines? Good luck getting your news buddy!!! He won't even know about Jessica Simpson's baby til at least later in the week.

Is it too early to Irish this coffee up a bit?