stillfugue

The birds were loud this morning. I wore my brightest white. I was especially crisp with a Buckley tie, kelly green and navy. A big chick hatched across the street, gradually bulging large pieces of egg crust, bulges in sandy browns with sharp edges, steam crawling in large fluffs of bubbling blue gasses, and all sorts of man-made things blowing up at least 12 houses. The birds tried to tell me how fouled up I am. My shoes were unpolished. There was a certain brightness like the rec room in hell. My car did not want to work and neither did I. But everything was starting to bathe in the green of the new world. I wished that my world was sparkling new each year.