What to do? Maybe a walkabout before putting my nose back into those papers and that computer screen.
Along the way, I found several self-portraits. Who knew Blue Ridge Road was so full of art?
And by the way, y'all really do need to pay attention when turning to enter the dollar flick. Folks like object to being knocked over in the road.
Sawn to barely a lump in the ground. Decaying slowly into the surrounding dessicated shards of death. No longer to provide welcomed shade to nesting birds.
Unsolicited handwriting not on a wall but on a cracked and poorly reflecting pane of glass in a structure that barely houses wasps.
Burned, sucked dry, discarded.
A field of luckless three-leaf clovers destined to an early frost if not a spray of herbicide with no hope of producing even a cup of clover tea.
A bottle cap discarded, no bottle to cap, with all the use of the nothing it has become. Occupying space. Using gravity. Displacing air.
Crushed and crumpled, cast beyond the reach of recycling, oxidizing to a pale dust through another century. Errant bits of grey floating on the vespers of dusk.
That little light is not gonna shine, but it will shatter and split under the weight of the next tire.
Torn. Emptied. Discarded. The important parts taken.
Ah yes, and the coffee was good. It was better when it was 69 cents. That price amused me until the clerk would ruin it by applying tax.
Now, where did I leave those papers?
Location:Westgrove St,Raleigh,United States