Trees

For Erica, who says I'm too wordy. I'll show her what wordy is:

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In between translating Greek for fun and profit
And reading haiku about Frida Kahlo,
I took a walk today,
without you,
Beneath the scattered trees.

The climate was sunny and warm
And filled with house music
Being blasted on airwaves surreal
From behind buildings
Whose facades had decayed with the passage of time
And the creeping vines belaboring their stones,
Cold, under the shadow of the trees.

I wondered aloud at the juxtaposition
Of African natives, a whole tribe,
The eldest matriarch slowly hobbling
And calling out in Swahili or Zulu
To a four-year old,
Not to splash in that puddle
Or you'll ruin your dress,
Just two houses down from the rich
Little white girls and boys
Too young for their age
Having a party on the front lawn of a frat house,
Scratching their names in the tree under which they just made love,
Beer in plastic red cups
Strewn about the yard
No trash can in sight.

The ground shouted in flourescent chalk
Absurdities:
The trees!
Spoon!
304 Families!
Tickets $15!
Look at that horrible crochet work!
Have you met some woman, running a campaign for an inconsequential government post without any prestige or decision making power but which will look good on a resume whether she shows up for the meetings or not!

On the outside of the vast courtyard,
It was silent without your voice.
Trees waved their fan-shaped leaves
As the occasional bus passed by.
I thought of food,
Of the vast restaurant that sat nearby,
And then of the meatloaf that occupied my refrigerator,
Leftovers from L--, who could have eaten them
But is too generous for her own good,
And after all, she said, it's not very good anyway,
The meat was ground too small.

And dinner tomorrow, with B--,
Who I think might like me a little,
Which is unfortunate, really,
Because it was awfully fun strolling with her
Under the giant trees that line the sidewalk,
Talking of Palestine and antidepressants and flowers,
And now she has my cat to keep her company over the summer,
But I don't want her to think I'm just using her
For a cat-sitter and a study partner
When she finally gets up the courage to tell me what she thinks
And I have to turn her down.

Suddenly, someone steps in front of me,
Having turned a corner, he walks swiftly onward
And his gait is like a metronome
Whose tick is mesmerizing.
Swaying like the tallness of the trees.
You'd laugh at me:
I think of little else for several more blocks...

Until I pass the theater-goers under the trees
Waiting in line with E-- to see a woman
Clutch desperately onto a side of beef
With sighs too deep for words to express
While apples rot on the coffee table.

The last tavern stands with people sitting
In the patio, surrounded by lightposts like metal trees
Reaching to the heavens in industrial splendor
Shining on the people below
Eating hamburgers as big as your head
And drinks as blue as your soul
When the phone rings and rings and rings
And the voicemail picks up
And you recite the message along with the machine,
For so you have memorized it
But you leave no message
So as not to seem crazier
Than you really are.

My apartment:
No cat comes to the door.
No roommate disappears awkwardly into his room.
Even the roaches are on vacation.
I can only sit and wait for you to call
And watch as the sky turns brilliant colors
As the sun goes down at precisely 8:06 PM
Sinking silently behind the trees.

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By the way, that was a 40-minute walk. Add that to 30 minutes on Wednesday, Thursday and Friday each, and a skipped Tuesday. Total this week? 2-1/2 hours. I like this plan.

Oh, and an introduction will come soon, when I'm feeling less verbose.