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2001-02-26 || 2:02pm || raymond james sontag || dear raymond james sontag. today at lunch i sat on the bench under the large pine tree they put up in memorial of you. you have become a piece of wood furniture. the sound of the brook that runs through campus. pine needles and underbrush that takes away the sounds of footsteps. you are the squirrel that crept up to me while i was reading doris, and i knew it was you because you had no fear. you stood at the base of the bench and studied my face openly. you set your two front feet on the seat and contemplated jumping into my bag. i spoke to you and you inched back toward the base of the tree and found a nut to munch on, stared at the cigarette butt of the parliament next to my foot, and we regarded each other. in the sunlight as you were running away i saw how delicate your tail is, ethereal, like a cloud being tugged along behind you. guestbook || notes || archives || profile || photos || d-land |