futurebird's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I ran into the cops. The steam cloud hissing off from the physical plant building was the deepest shades of blue and grey. The smoke curled under the big old yellow moon. A moon like a dirty cookie low in the sky. I like a blue moon--- but those don�t come often. This moon was big and pockmarked. It was the kind of night that makes me want to howl. I ran behind phips conservatory: the glittering glass plaice filled with warm greenery. I could see the leaves of the big, dark, tropical plants pressing their leaves on the glass. If they knew what it was like here, in this cold air, they wouldn�t do that. I ran to the salt piles. They salt the whole city from these white dry mountains. Salt is poison. Half a cup of salt will kill you. It�s very kind of the city to keep piles of poison out in the open where all the citizens can find them. I ran under the panther-hollow bridge. The massive pylons on either side of me gave me a sense of balance. They are as long and as high as several trailer-trucks. They�re faced with rusticated sandstone. If it takes that much heavy stone to balance me out I better start getting used to being skewed. I ran through the forest. No words for it. The trees were spaced in pairs, a hundred gates to new places, the space between: black mouths gaping open. I was swallowed and reborn on every pass. I ran, and ran, and ran. I ran into the cops. They were driving a paddy wagon. And they pulled me over (I must have been going too fast!) No. Not too fast. �The Park is Closed.� Don�t they have anything better to do? They spoiled my night. The park is closed at night because people would have too much fun if it was open. (pigs.) 15:52:08 - 2001-01-17 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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