Spider web broken on my forehead. Moving from a greater to a lesser concentration of leaf sounds as I move through a greater then lesser quantity of leaves. Row of commercial trucks and Latin girls gathered around a car with a Student Driver bumper sticker, I try unsuccessfully to nab — once, twice — a fingersized leaf as it descends irregularly to my side. The Further Adventures of Robinson Crusoe, the follow-up to Robinson Crusoe, which nobody reads, and which I haven’t read, is recalled. In the valley where the morning sun is able to strike, lower your sunglasses, for they are smudged.
Vanity disappears in the presence of death and spirit appears in the absence of vanity, was some of the gibberish I’d written when I thought I was dying — “that part might be alright.” One’s self, a gas giant was more of that blubbering gibberish — “that might be alright too.” (Gas giant, mush giant, something along those lines. There seems only an elusive particle of actual me, I will think, among all this height and skin.) Mouth full of straw: small dog on one side of the fence, wagging; rabbit on the other side of the fence, looking friendlily at small dog; and a second rabbit, similar to the first, but behind it, nibbling with a mouth full of straw. Lost was a cat named Justice, the sign said, about one year old, nice temperament, last seen a few blocks from here. A yellow hydrant, a deflated football, a jangling heavy chain on rear mounted truck hitch now passing. With both cars now out of sight, and with the collision long since averted, I wander into the strong, the very strong scent of burnt rubber, where something had almost happened but didn’t.
.i`` * ^ / . . . . . ` `~ 