03 June 2006


An Excerpt From a Work No Longer In Progress

The ants crawled up your arm. A long row of them. They stopped at your tattoo. The red one of the tree. You remember it? It grew there for a while, hidden next to your elbow. You were fascinated by it, even though you usually didn’t see it. But the ants did. They gathered around the base of it, where the trunk meets the grass. A red tree. Nuts. The ants clustered there. Tickling a little. You talked to them about it. What’s up ants? you said. You like my tree? Remember? What’s up ants? Funny. You made them laugh.


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