7) Here and There

I had been in a tree, I do not know what kind. I eat there, not always in that tree, just where I am sure I can not be seen. I eat what I can carry up there. It does not take me long, but I stay there for the whole time I am given for my break. I do nothing after I eat but sit. When the cars are not moving in the parking lot I hear the rustling of the smallest things. My ears turn my head to them, the brown bird throwing leaves about, the beetle on the bark. There is life not human, not mechanical, there. Sometimes, there, I find I am barely breathing and have been there forever but only an instant. Then I breath deeply and sigh. But I came down today after the sun had moved only twenty minutes. I had to write.

"Why do you cry?" I asked Gail, but her shoulders only heaved. Her lips stretched over her teeth like a smile, only her face was pink, her eyes were smeared, and drops fell off of her jaw. She was beautiful then, I think. I did not ask her again because she did not seem to need to tell me or did not think I needed to know.