Homer was a homeless homo sapien for the time being as he was searching for a place to stay in Lisbon the night. He met an apparent lesbian named Lisabeth. Their meeting can be recounted as “sup man” managed lisabeth through bites of mango. “gonna keep staring or you gonna say something?” “Sorry ma’am, I was just looking at your shirt. Good for you, to each their own ”. On her shirt was the word _Lesbains _in rainbow colored letters. She bought the shirt at a bath house in Nice. Les bains translates to “the baths”.
I awoke slowly, then quickly, the speed of my heartbeat respective to that of my waking. My scratched-up back separated from an old thick tree trunk as wide as it was rough. After a short period of panic, I slowly calmed as I remembered I was only taking a nap in the middle of my run. I left a the banana peel at my feet and started into a jog withcontent in my stomach and a little leftover haziness in my vision and mind. The forest floor, soft and forgiving (besides the few roots) felt amazing on my less than cushioned shoes. The air soothed my bare back and I looked about the trees all around and the large pond to my right. The forest was thick enough to where it felt unadultured and solely affected and regulated by its natural inhabitants. The pond was probably wider than two football fields and it was never silent. There was no shortage of dragonflies on the shore nor ducks among the metropolis of lily pads and water plants that stuck out one or two feet above the water like they were trying to beat out the little lilipads for the suns attention. Frogs croaked and jumped into the water with a telltale splash every time the trail was close to the water. If my mind wasn’t freed from all want in my current state of running, observing, and existing as part of this beautiful slice of the natural world, I do believe I would have a slight desire to paddle a kayak through the water plants and see what it’s like to be on the pond. My Grandma would be making pasta right about now and I was about five minutes out from my grandparents house where I was staying for the weekend. As I picked up the pace a little in hungry excitement, I recalled all the summers I had spent walking with my family on those very trails listening to my grandfather indentify every bird’s song or call, and my uncles tell stories about their collective youth. I recalled the events of yesterday when I introduced my grandfather to my college best friend and we three walked the trails and looked up at the newly fledged cooper’s hawks.
Don’t Walk Home Alone. Walk to the train station alone. Get on the train alone. Get off the train alone. Walk through the city alone. Walk along the bridge alone. Look at the bay alone. Hike up the hills alone.
Hike down to the town alone. Eat lunch on the water alone. Get on the ferry alone. Walk to the train station alone. Get on the train alone. Get off the train alone. Now Walk Home Alone
World, hold on, one day you will have to answer to the children of the sky Children falling from the sky Landing very softly into arms of you and I World, hold on instead of messing with our future look up at the sky Hold on, no necessity for worry when you look up at the sky World, oh my, instead of looking to the future won’t you look at you and I Girl, don’t cry don’t you see that there are children, falling from the sky World, goodbye One day you will catch the children falling from the sky
Don’t waste time, Stop Narcan from crossing State Lines
Sky scrapers scrape skies Ted bundy raped guys Fentanyl saves lives ODs prevent hate crimes
She was wonderful. Dark hair flowed onto soft shoulders and her green eyes could put butterflies in the sternest man’s stomach. Her eyes grinned in a way that gave the impression you shared something secret. Something scandalous and hilarious.
Her white tan lines blessed her otherwise dark shoulders and collarbone. Her cheeks naturally smooth and colorful. She talked with a sweet voice and made little innocent jokes that could stick in a man’s head for days.
Today she ate a nectarine on a sun lounger in your best friend’s backyard. It was pretty hot out and you guys had been playing basketball in the park for about an hour and decided to call it a day and make smoothies. You’re met with her sweet laugh as you attempt to close the sticking plastic screen door behind you and step into the sun. She’s “reading” a book for school and tanning.
Their mom emerges around the side of the house. “Natalya did you walk the dog this morning?” she asks with slight impatience. “No mom, Erik said he would but he only walked her for like five minutes”. You and Erik had walked her around the block and then walked to the store to get frozen berries for the smoothie. Erik and Natalya’s mom is a kind and funny woman. She is both funny on purpose and funny unintentionally but in a good way. For example, two weeks ago, she went on a solo trip six hours away down the Oregon Coast to attend a mushroom hunting weekend in the forest.
Three sheep sit on a brown hill One sheep rolls down the hill and picks up much straw in its wool When it reaches the top of the hill after sullenly climbing back up the other sheep start eating the straw off of its wool. The other sheep begin to cough because they accidentally swallow some wool
8 late
“It ain’t late It’s only eight Stack your plate” “Okay mate” *eats late “Wait…”
Annotations and Analysis:
Discussion Question:
How does the story change if it is revealed that the author’s use of slang does not stop at the word “ain’t”, but includes references to the slang word “ate” meaning to do well, impress, or look good?
Three white ducklings sit next to the river bank behind their mother. They have fresh feathers and infantile attitudes. The young man is affected by these ducklings with equal inspiration and dejection. He sits with a girl he became acquainted with a month ago and sees her as a prospect for romance. He thinks about what the future holds for these ducklings and beholds the condition of youth. The woman sees cute ducklings and only cute ducklings and their presence makes her feel good. They enjoy each others company but tension still tends to rise when they are alone together. She thinks he is funny and so does he but he does not think she is funny. He thinks she is very pretty and she finds him tall and good looking but she does not find herself attractive. He wishes she would care more for herself but fears that if she did she wouldn’t be interested in him. She wishes he was more assertive. He thinks all these things but she does not. “I love baby animals” she says. “Yeah the ducklings are pretty cool, I wish we could pet them” He wishes many other things in this moment. He mostly wishes he could find the confidence to put his arm around her. He thinks that this girl is not right for him and wonders if the girl that is exists. He wonders if humans are really wired to have life partners and hopes so dearly. The husbandless mother duck raises her children by herself. This is the way of ducks. Their sole unconscious collective goal is the continuation of their species and they continue to breed and survive in their environment. The man thinks about this quietly and becomes sad from too much wondering. “Do you want to get something to drink?” He secretly fears sleeping with her because he’s afraid it won’t be so good as he thought and he’ll still be missing something. They get up from the bench and walk up the dewy short grass to the sidewalk path towards the street that the bar is on. “What will you have to drink?”, he asks. “Vodka lemonade” “Ahh you’re gonna be hungover tomorrow morning if you drink sugar” She has to drink sugar because she can’t take the taste of alcohol by itself. They bump eachother slightly and subtly as they walk and this raises his hopes.
The truth finally came to light It was a dark and dreary night Far from a lark, an eerie sight Sound of creaking up the flights
Fights, white blights and black called mice Corrupted souls know vermin price Made shadows scattered by deaths knock twice Beady eyes competing rise yearning squirming to taste the scythe
Why is it that in these moments it’s so easy to hold onto this feeling. This feeling that we yearn for when we’re alone. What did we do that made us eligible to deserve this. What punishment will we receive for so eagerly taking it for granted. This mile-high build up of shared experiences. It’s so hard to tell whether the feeling holds us back or drives us forward. It can’t stay. It’s not possible for this to continue. What feels so strong, so never ending to us, is so weak against the laws of the universe. Nothing good can ever last but we can sure try. But what will we leave behind, destruction caused by the selfishness of a group formed into one entity?
