And I said to him, “But if you
chainsaw a tall
tree into
all dem pieces, there must
be a reason for to do it, then.”
And the Bald Man said, “Because
it had died.”
Which seemed to make good enough
sense for dees here brain
marbles. But then I
thought about
the loud.
And I thought about the
grunt and the smell and the sweat.
I thought about how I longed to hide
from it, but also how I felt
compelled to
watch it
at the same time.
And I said, “That being so,
maybe doing such a thing
brings about a
satisfaction, innit, all on its own.”
We stood together for a moment and I
sniffed the quiet air and it
felt like sandpaper
in my nose.
And the Bald Man looked down
at his legs, covered in his
ridiculous blond nap of
human hair, but also
now wood chips and dirt.
And he said, “Maybe it
does, Bobo. Maybe
it does.”
TAGS: DailyRothko | Dogs | Spring2016