ONE THING THEY DON'T TEACH YOU

Outside my house there is a storm drain.

It’s so heavy that it is almost impossible to pick up.

I saw two construction workers yesterday looking at my bicycle.

I could see their thought balloons: “Man! That’s a nice bicycle!”

It’s interesting that a cat that massive found a way to get into the storm drain.

Now his ‘meow’ – it’s not a bad meow – is a combination of embarassment and despair, a slightly frightened, humbled, “I Don’t Want To Die” Meow.

I saw a quilted couch on television yesterday that I bet you could sink into it like quicksand. That’s what I think.

So I went ahead and gave the construction workers six oranges.

Although I wanted to write about Jack Kerouac in my heart, I realized that I might as well write about Abraham Lincoln for all the good it would do. I mean, all the good it would do the world and me.

How could you possibly steal a bicycle from someone who gave you three oranges a piece? That would be difficult.

I was stuck without an umbrella. I tried to think of other words for ‘lilac’ – the color – and could only come up with mulberry and eggplant. Yummy mulberries and eggplants.

One thing that they don’t teach you in school anymore is colors.

Or geography. Or food.

Jack Kerouac, though, that’s something else.

I saw a clipping of his obituary in the New York Times the other day and there were some interesting details but I kept looking a the phtoograph because there was a white line right through his forehead. What did it mean?

Or love. They never teach love anymore.

The construction workers lifted the storm drain with ease. It was amazing.

Meow! Meow! I shall not die today! I shall not die this way!
To love is to grow fat! This is what I say, dammit. Meow!

If I were to write a caption for the white line across his forehead, it would be: “Yes–All Men Are Lonely.”


all artwork, including monsters but not old timey photographs,
® mr. crispy flotilla, 2007