Thursday, November 18, 2010

Untitled 9.30.10


Tired as he was, he managed a smile. Fruitless, merging with his forehead as he winced from the bright summer sun. He took the potato belt off, the leather flaking dust as he carefully set it on the wooden red bench. Several minutes later he collected his thoughts and took a deep breath of farm fresh warm air.

City life was never for me, he thought. Maybe a ride every once in a while. Like to the airport by the river down south. Hmm, that might make a nice road trip. But only through the outer neighborhoods. Don't want to get caught up in the traffic unless I need to buy something.

Seeing the glimmering silver rooftops across the fields reminded him of airplanes, vintage though, never the newer jets. Oil and grease, gas and hydraulic fluid. Ohhh the memories.

It's the rivets and workmanship that put a cherry on top, he told a passing meadowlark on a fencepost. It's like looking at a frozen dessert that's melting but you have no spoon. You want to dig in with your fingers but it's messy and that cuts the satisfaction like a knife.

Dak stuck his tongue out. Nothing he hated worse than sticky fingers. Well maybe a crying baby. A crying baby with sticky fingers. Yuk!


The screen door pushed open with a springy creaking groan. Cool air rushed out as he unlocked the front door and walked into the front room. Closing the door and latching it he took off his hat and bag.

Ahhh, he said as the day's stress started to flow away.

He poured himself a cold drink and poured himself into the green recliner. The box wanted to turn on but not until he clicked the remote. Then it was happy.

Important news for you or a family member. If you or someone you know has recently suffered illness or death, this information is for you.

Oh my God what have they done, Dak said quietly. They've taken my favorite box and turned it into something evil. My favorite after work activity melted into a blob of filth. What have they done?

The man on the box screen continued to drone on about pills, wills, and flights to Senegal, but Dak tuned it out. He thumbed through the paper mail he picked up from the paper mail box on the way home. Something red and glossy caught his eye.

No comments:

Post a Comment