THE BOX IN THE BACKYARD

treasure.jpg

Some objects are infinitely patient. They possess gravitas. This box is one. I never catch it unawares. This box is awares. Sometimes I think of it as a bush-league black hole. Inside the box is the end of life as we know it. Or so I like to pretend as I play with goodbye.

Know what's an odd word? Angst. It's more like a sound a Norwegian lady would make when she stubbed her toe than an actual word.

Some musings are more valuable than others. I acknowledge that.