Alberto Gonzales Mints His Precious Face

"Nobody knows what I'm feeling, Shimmy," he said. "Even my days as the worst Attorney General have been better than my father's best days."

Late-summer sunshine bounced off the profligate bole of the Mayakovsky Tree. Former Attorney General Alberto Gonzales reclined in the mangy squirrel nest.

I was thinking of peaches made from mouse meat and injured houseflies. His vague eyelids fluttered. Dental floss is baffling and gargles my heart.

Former Attorney General Alberto Gonzales said:

"Our new paradigm renders quaint the Geneva Convention's strict limitations on prison attack dogs and building human pyramids with naked prisoners. There is no mass between the 'nothing' of the Geneva Convention and the 'nothing' of common biological casualties."

"Mayakovsky Tree," I asked, "why do you pace in the wind? Why is the moth savage and plain in my teeth?"

The Mayakovsky Tree bent forward, maybe a little too nervous to answer, and brushed against the back porch.

Finally, the Mayakovsky Tree answered. "You're caressed by the varnished bed slats that press against your back when you hide from a thunderstorm," he said. "While here, all summer, I sit and draw these repentant, unemployed liars to my sunny bole."

Former Attorney General Alberto Gonzales shifted his weight. He squinted.

"The moon moves along my lap," Gonzales said to the Mayakovsky Tree. "This makes me sad."

"You swept in abruptly and mauled with suede gloves!" the Mayakovsky Tree replied.