It’s August, at last. Only 10 days late.
This is what August should be about. Lounging in parks, in the sun. Green grass beneath your feet, tireless blue blanket far above. Birds sketching the outline of clouds. Planes creeping like zippers across the sky. Lying with your head pushed into the soft warm ground, with nothing but the distant sound of life atop the breeze, and your own thoughts in your head.
you will always be alone.
I take off my shoes and let the breeze tickle my office-weary feet. I unbutton my shirt and let the sun lightly toast my anaemic chest. With my fingers pushed gently into the earth, I think of all the darkness – the bane, the poison, the hurt – everything seeping out of me and into the ground, being sucked far far down by roots and soil and clay, far down to the centre of the Earth where it is burnt. Obliterated. Leaving me pure and clean, and strong enough to survive another day of lies. The sun shines relentlessly and I close my eyes from the glare.
“he’s a headcase. no one wants a headcase.”
The noise of humans grows. Splitting through contentment like an axe through cobwebs, two pot bellied limitons kick a football back and forth like moronic clockwork, guffawing and bellowing apologies whenever it thuds next to the heads of a dozing couple, or disturbs a young girl from her book. I grab my coat and shoes and leave.
you might as well keep walking. you will never find peace.
I settle instead beyond the bridge over the pond. The scent of still water upon the rocks reminding me of childhood, of when laughter was second to breath. There was no one on the grass but a far away couple, the man playing with her hair as she looked down upon him. Smiling. The crows hopped and jumped around me, swooping from branch to branch, playing with their flight like all birds do. Oblivious to the miracle of what they can do. Accepting what they are capable of as a mere ability, as second nature. A breeze kicked life into two leaves, and they danced around each other like lovers. Birds and leaves alike were at play.
I walked barefoot to the gates. As I left I passed between the cemetery and a young couple with their child. Blissful indolence was over, and it was time to go to my room. I will, if time permits me, return to the park tomorrow.
look to the dead. each of them takes hateful pity on you. you soak the earth with their sorrow and scorn, from far beneath their stone.
