A Pen. I need a Fucking Pen. Anyone? I find one, cradle it in my hand, and the calmness rushes through me.
Music. The trees want Cake. The grass is sleeping fitfully. The sky and road just want it loud. My shitty radio sounds are up all the way, violently shoving out the beat. The trees gather closer to the road, to the music, urging the road to narrow it's intensity.
Planes strike the sky and it doesn't notice. It's turned to us, enthralled by the beat and the life moving slowly in a line. The sky hold us up to it's blue nostrils, willing the smell.
The grass wakens near the road, smiling greenly at us. 'Rouse the cows!' it turns to shout. It's just like grass... always thinking of the cows.
The lime green house with matching lime green chairs ask me if I'd like to sit for a while. It nods noncommitally when I decline, going back to it's lime green porch. The glistening pond begs for a swim, to be caressed and penetrated, but I can't satify the water. The road owns me today, and the trees have me in a close embrace.
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