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Tree Leaves submitted 2013.05.03 06:52 AM by Willis viewed 1956 times


Fall carried along with it, like the confetti of desiccated leaves whirling atop the pavement, cheap wine and the people who drank that sickening sweet wine, people disappeared, except for me.

Worried about cops, we drank wine in the park, the safest place we could find. The wooden benches suited us.

We sat on the benches and drank wine and watched the leaves spin about.

At home my woman was crazy. After work I would call and say, I won't be home for a couple of hours. I'm gonna have some wine with friends. She had her own troubles.

There were three of us squeezed onto one measly bench, talking. We passed the bottle of sweet wine between us. Co-workers, they were as bored with life as I was. We drank and watched the leaves.

The cold autumn wind blew around us and we talked about how the future had only two options:

1) Either work until we were committed to an insane asylum

or

2) Become experts at the identification of tree leaves and die without regret

We discussed the problem while we drank the cool, sweet wine.

When we had made our decision, shook on it, and committed to purchasing another jug of sweet wine, we hobbled to the liquor store. Later, we returned to our bench and the sunset and the earth cooling and the trees around us. Sharp people in sharp suits traveled home. They looked at us and registered: winos.

But we had now become botanists. They were counting on a private insane asylum in old age. We now studied leaves.

We sat on the bench and debated the difference between trees with simple leaves and those with compound leaves, trees with pinnate leaves and bi-pinnate leaves. We passed the wine jug back and forth and argued over which tree blazed best in fall, agreed that it didn't matter in the end.

And the fall carried along with it three winos who had suddenly become botanists and who had watched crinkled leaves scatter with the wind.



rating: 3


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