Friday, July 31, 2015


The gaping hole in the chest, well, that was a
heart. The transplant wouldn't take, so they
just ripped it out  -  I do feel better now, 
somewhat relieved in fact. I'll find something
to fill the spot, sooner or later, I'm sure.
We spend a lot of our time at the riverside,
now that it is easy, and now that I can move.
The fish jump the water with ripples and
bubbles. Both things I envy them having.
Two days a week a man comes by with a
cart  -  coffee, pastries, finger foods to nose
at, and all the rest. problem is, he intends
to talk, and do nothing else. His prices may
be cheap, but his habit is expensive. Talk.
Talk. Talk  -  once of those guys who thinks
all space has to be filled with words, an
incessant chatter, on and over, about 
inconsequential things. I finally always
end up just sending him away, but he 
always does come back.
I can function pretty well  -  like an uncaring
hillbilly now, without a heart. I get by, and I
look at various things with a different eye :
the squirrel who prepares for Winter, the
bird of prey, high overhead, just swooping
around to see what's fallen, and where. Every
few days, another roadside carcass, or a deer
laid dead deep in the woods. Things I, as a person,
would never usually see. I'm lighter by a few
pounds too  -  and all that raging sentiment has
also disappeared. Whatever happens, I don't care.
Now that it is gone, that is the way it is.

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