Sunday, April 11, 2010

A Bucket

Notes that reach the ear of thousands. They pass by with their brief cases and black suits, their flashing cameras and sneakers, their eyes and ears drawn to the man who beats a bucket.

Friday, April 9, 2010

A Color






Five colors spilled out into the ocean.
Five colors crested a wave.
Five colors drank all the water in the world.
Five colors dug a graying grave.
Five colors only

Four colors smiled at the sunlight.
Four colors spoke to the moon.
Four colors milked the glowing way.
Four colors only

Three colors lay down under branches.
Three colors danced with the leaves.
Three colors only

Two colors hoped for something better
Two colors only

One color only saved the world. Red.

Wednesday, April 7, 2010

An Unexpected Resident

The magnolia branches shiver under the sudden weight of a small D.C. resident. Skipping playfully along and slapping the air with his great bushy tail, he looks more like a small, chubby citizen than a half-rabid rodent. Like any upstanding citizen of the District, he pretends to be terribly annoyed by photo-snapping tourists, while in reality, the majority of the profits of his sleazy trade comes straight from their hands... literally.

A cheese cracker, the end of a hot dog bun, or the crust of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich will soon be tossed to him by ignorantly adoring visitors. He basks in the sure deviousness of it all and licks his lips of the foreign crumbs.

He just may be D.C.'s finest entertainer, and certainly it's most loyal citizen.
A squirrel.