Wilshire Boulevard. No sunglasses. I am always forgetting them. And always regretting it. The constant blinding is still new to me. Sidewalks grasp trees that don’t belong. I wonder where they were seeds.
Two men in ties and slacks stand outside their office building, staring at two trees elevated in a concrete planter as if they had happened upon them for the first time. They point at the beautiful mess of branches and squint to get a better look. What are they so interested in? Are they wondering how such a mighty being could look so frail?
I am walking aimless; hands in pockets, unable to find a bookstore. The office men and their demonstrative display below the trees distracts me and I am struck blind by an apparition.
She is crying and angry with me. I pretend not to notice her, turning to look at something across the boulevard. I am not blessed with grace. My feet tangle beneath me and gravity propels me against the towering walls of the office building.
With her speed my ghost floats to me and holds the tip of a knife to the small of my back. I am taken hostage. She wipes her nose.
I kiss the structure, closing my eyes. She whispers and I don’t hear a word, but her tone is wicked. She is in control. With the butt of her knife she knocks me unconscious.
I wake up screaming. Upon investigation I find that my feet are firmly encased in a concrete slab at the base of some building. I might be on Wilshire Boulevard. I also might not be. The sun is out and I assume that at least one day has passed. My apparition is nowhere in sight. I am unmoving, mercilessly stable, and lost all the same.
It’s hot. The sunglasses mistake is becoming more infuriating than before. My pale skin is pink, but I know it will blister soon. The thought of this nearly makes me pass out. I am hovering outside my own pathetic figure.
That is, until a maintenance worker comes to spray me with his hose. The crystal stream hits me, shining optical diamonds as it reflects off the killing sun. I lap at the water like a happy dog, drooling. Soaking wet, I am satisfied.
As night falls I curse the maintenance worker. Bring me blankets! I am freezing!
I am also burning, or at least my legs are. Cramps have set in, and I decide this is Karma. Hoping to quell the stabbing in my quadriceps I attempt to sit, but my Tibia threatens to snap against the high and tight cement. I can’t do anything right.
A few drunk couples watch my failure and laugh. I admit that I look funny – out of place – but I don’t believe their laughter is necessary. They scurry off and I am left alone in the moonlight.
Just another tree.
Stumble It!
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