Wednesday, January 10, 2007

Their Merely Being There Means Something

After not much water came out of the bathtub spigot yesterday morning, I sat next to the computer chair. Rubbed the paper shredder, the keyboard clacking above me. I almost fell asleep on two folded plain scraps of yesterday's New York Times on the floor. I forgot why I was next to the chair and the blended little painstaking pieces trapped in the shredder bin. I jumped on the window sill. A rank, malodorous squirrel hunched in the bole of the Mayakovsky Tree, nibbling and mixed up. Its soft neck slanting. I wanted to pray up there, in the tree. I licked my right haunch, the stubborn clacktey-clacks diminishing behind me. You can pray to Jesus up in that tree. Go ahead. I am the Christ.


Anonymous Anonymous said...

Do squirrels have souls, Shimmy? I found one twitching in my garage yesterday, but took no heroic measures. I offered only some final comforts. I prayed on the ground. Today I still feel wrong. As Christ of the Mayakovsky Tree, are you able to offer forgiveness? Am I worthy of it?

2:12 PM  
Blogger Shimmy said...

As Messiah of the Mayakovsky Tree, I would express my gratitude to the squirrel for offering his menial carcass and then rip into his jugular. This isn't a question of, as you say, worthiness. You found a dimpled spider, fat and twitching. Would that ALL the Lord's cats were prophets!

2:40 PM  

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