he used to play this game with himself when he was a boy  even then when he knew it wasnt plausibleeven before he knew the words plausible or implausible

 

he liked dirt under his feet  he liked grass and fieldshe loved riding his bicycle to the forest preserves(against his parents wishes and fearmongering) locking it to a tree and walk the horse paths the banks of Des Plaines River walk in its pasture breaks high-step in the woods among its dense trees over the dead and fallen over the cripples that refused to submit that cast seeds and threw up shoots despite their untowardness or decrepitness   

oddly he glimmered and learned peoples natures apart from them through the teaching of the woods and their confiding solitude

                                                                                                        

           Oh  the game   the game he liked to imagine

                                             was coalescing all the sand-and-stone concrete the bitumen tarmac the black-topped scabs which madeup the highways expressways rural routes city and village streets parking lots patios culverts extended waterways dams locks curbs runways railroad platformsanything and everything that laid upon and suffocated the earth(think Jill Mastersons(Shirley Eaton) demise in James Bonds Goldfinger) 

he liked to imagine them moving at once plate tectonics imagine what the wounds would look like after the coarse blunt scalpels crawled past  its sounds  and the while he never imagined it wouldnt happen or wouldnt come home to Americathe great clots wending their way to one of three cities New York Los Angeles or Chicago homing beacons the most obvious places glutted with carbon pheromones(pheromoans) their shroud emissions and exhaustion

he hadnt remembered this game in awhile

he moved to a small rural town

what triggered his remembrance  his eyes blurry from swimming laps  walking across the parking lot walking home  was the uncomely curl of floss laying at the edge of a rain puddle 

he had been looking forward to the anointment of soft rain

floss

why was spent floss laying in the parking lot like a dead pinworm or another parasite

he laughed darkly

           he remembered his very slight humoured disgust at finding an exhausted drooling rubber in a parking lot  on more than one occasion

the floss seemed a new low

unless it was just him

he stomped the tarmac hopeful it might finally kickstart his long imagined culling of poured scabs he imagined the floss could be the last element he needed like a pin pulled from a grenade to set the works in motion

                                                                              he paused

still disgusted

nothing  Nada

JesusChrist 

       he would rather there was fucking than flossing(its carelessness right up there against dogshit on a sidewalk or street when someone preferred not to clean up after their pet)(pet-peeves?)

at home hed warm up with a bourbon

1304,  Thursday,  16  2. 17

1424,  Thursday,  16  2. 17
< 1433

Shirley Eaton  Goldfinger  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=USD2Y7wRNgk

Devil Doll  Bourbon in Your Eyes  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=va3FY-i55bo

the powderblue collision of studios  A B  C in the BACK  arrested him from across the spacious parkway  he imagined its textured blue skin through bare trees and sticks as a wayward piece of sky fallen to earth and stuck in the ground like a small planetary headstone

it was girdled with a yellow strand of black-lettered C A U T I O N tape reminiscent of the ribbon used to form police lines

he had no intentions of trying to walk through a wall  confident hed pull up short

what was this the hubbub
                  early January there were pineworked Christmas wreaths on the doors and strings of coloured lights shining through its windows 

those were now boarded with plywood sheets  their four corners nailed with concrete nails to the stucco

ah   small pale ivory patches sheathed in plastic were affixed to the plywood

UNSAFE

Do Not Enter or Occupy

It is a misdemeanor to occupy this building

(THIS PLACARD IS NOT A DEMOLITION ORDER)

THIS STRUCTURE HAS BEEN INSPECTED, FOUND TO BE SERIOUSLY

DAMAGED AND IS UNSAFE TO OCCUPY AS DESCRIBED BELOW

in a field of four lines written in a weak hand was  Structural Damage

DO NOT ENTER, EXCEPT AS SPECIFICALLY AUTHORIZED IN WRITING BY THE CITY OF BENTON

1-16-17

the insignificant patches followed the ribbon around the buildings corners like Christmas gift tags affixed to other plywood scabs so someone didnt think the city was referring only to entering through the front of the building  that its sides and rear were negated from the Order

he supposed cities had to be blatant(wasteful – it really wasnt their money they were spending) these days so that occupiers or squatters couldnt say they didnt see the notices and equivocate that they hadnt really committed a misdemeanor(he might argue 1-16 -17 was vague read one through sixteen through seventeen   OH  January 16th through 17th   No    OH  January 16, 2017   why didnt you say that)

he was fortunate

          he had a knack for looking through things if they werent appealing  so despite the municipal swag he looked past it past the fresh scabs of plywoodunder the fluttering tarpaulin weakly clinging to the structures flat top and gleamed what could be and maybe was once upon a time before its owner refused to care for and maintain it – they didnt live there did they 

he never figured pride was obsessive you either had it or you didnt  he also figured it was evident if he ever had the chance to lay his eyes on them    pride is exuded     if he cared to refocus his eyes now and saw what really existed he could probably be confident it was a mirrored reflection of  if not them  their soul   a figurative Dorian Gray portrait

he laid his hand on a side wall and felt its heart murmur

Well friend  you cant read but the notice says it is not a demolition order  Theres that  but Im curious what the structural damage is because we havent had a shaker and from what I see aside from the plywood youre the same you were the year before the years before  maybe a bit more faded by the sun   but you still look like a big piece of childrens chalk waiting to be snatched up and scribbled with
If only there were giants

its heart patiently murmured

he patted its side reassuringly  then took his leave


he crossed the parkway and walking away he turned 360s to gaze at it several times as he went  secretly hoping maybe a giant would lift the fake backdrop the curtain and grab the chalk

considered several days prior to penning 1915,  Day-between-Two-Ts,  15  2. 17
1044,  Thursday,  16  2. 17

1434 days or fewer remain

Ohgoodness  I see you have Trump at Market Price

Theres only so much to go aroundI cant help myself  Please  Im sorry your name again  Yes  Delilah  Thank you Delilah   Ill have Trump black and blue please  And the garlic potatoes and asparagus
What wine might you suggest    


“In normal times, the idea that U.S. officials entrusted with our most sensitive secrets would selectively disclose them to undermine the White House would alarm those worried about creeping authoritarianism. Imagine if intercepts of a call between Obama's incoming national security adviser and Iran's foreign minister leaked to the press before the nuclear negotiations began? The howls of indignation would be deafening.

“In the end, it was Trump's decision to cut Flynn loose. In doing this he caved in to his political and bureaucratic opposition. Nunes told me Monday night that this will not end well. "First it's Flynn, next it will be Kellyanne Conway, then it will be Steve Bannon, then it will be Reince Priebus," he said. Put another way, Flynn is only the appetizer. Trump is the entree.”

0938,  Twosday, Valentine’s Day,  14  2. 17

https://www.bloomberg.com/view/articles/2017-02-14/the-political-assassination-of-michael-flynn