XI. (passer domesticus)

 

 

Giant Springs.

 

The clouds were so low that day. Their shadows painted the hills and the beetle-kill trees. 'Calico' I kept thinking to myself. I watched as my friends wandered further and further up the trail, stopping and stooping every so often. They were on a mission called "artistic expression" and they were hunting for photographs. I refused the camera they pushed at me. Refused an explanation as to why I didn't feel like expressing myself. In truth, I myself couldn't have known. Instead, I parked myself on a public bench. I sat and looked at the water, the calico hills, the bird s**t on the concrete. I sat and I felt nothing other than the interesting realization that none of this I would take a picture of. None of it seemed worth it to me.

 

"Hey, down here!"  I could hear them call to me. And, "Come look at this!"

 

I hesitated and finally got off the bench I'd grown so fond of. Slowly made my way down the same trail, further and further away from the water. I passed by two teenage girls. Both with a baby on the hip, both with a baby in the belly. They were sharing a cigarette. One girl wore teal, head-to-toe. This bugged me more than anything.

 

I sighed and lit a cigarette of my own. Caught up to my eager, camera-toting friends. They were taking pictures of flowers. Yellow. "Close up they look like devil faces", they told me. Behind them was a large wall. Looming. 'How do they not see this?' I thought. All over the wall front were strategic nests. Sediment bulbs like acne on the great face.

 

I watched as a sparrow perched on the mouth of a nest. One sparrow, amongst all the empty nests. And my friends kept shooting flowers.

 

 

Reviews

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"I passed by two teenage girls. Both with a baby on the hip, both with a baby in the belly. They were sharing a cigarette. One girl wore teal, head-to-toe. This bugged me more than anything." -- this scene is particularly brilliant. You impress me thoroughly.