FicWad

I liked to climb trees.







Not those dejected ones in the park across the street; tangled in the misery of the city.
Vastly alone and neglected.





No - I mean the maples on 23rd and 4th street.





The spoils of nature.






Prisoners in a bare skeleton of human existence.







Tortured in anguish without the mirth of indifferent wind and a teasing sun.






So I climbed them.



I was small - they could carry me, there, far ascending above the eyes of the city.
I think the city is called Menesque - but I really didn't care.



The trees didn't.




The calm of their presence ignored everything else.





They were silently alone.






With me.




Like me.





I was like the trees, I suppose.




Not alone, but tortured in anguish without the indifferent familiarity of my world.




My home.




My somewhere special.





But that was vague wishful thinking.




Home was a void of obscurity.



Home was somewhere far away from me.




And I was here; climbing a tree.






-fin