Amidst the tower of custodial craft, lichen, and tiliment
stood a man covered in a prickly stubble, as though he had grown
hair upon hair upon hair upon hair upon hair upon hair upon hair
for long years and then had himself shaved and it began to grow
back. Starting to jerk at a sound, both brief and electric, certain of the
impact for a moment and then certain of something else, the man blinked
and then continued to gape. Something was starting to steam.
Oily rock grew
misty as a haze
of heat- and
He'd noticed it before.
Yet, among the crudely
slickered rock lay one who's
arms tickled wildly by
harangued the haze
leaving ripples of
air to swirl and
in a change of an inevitable life form.
So tiny was this creature that the man had to squint and bless his carrots
to make out the tiny arms and their play within the bubble layer that seemed somehow to include him.
When Rodger met a kitten so soft and purring
that he thought of the contrast to the stump on
which it sat, dust cuddling furry paws too tender
to yet be cut by the splinters slicking up dry
skin that won't scrape off, attaching, replacing
such a vital organ as rubber.
Surprised that he found such an attractive companion, the man..er..crumb-speckled-bird-flying-upward...the man sat to rest his legs and grumble contentedly as he slept.