I lay in bed unable to sleep

I wondered, who will die first, me or him?

I’ve been thinking alot about death

I jumped out of bed and grabbed my pen and paper.

The sound of crunching leaves beneath my bare feet,

The smell of fresh bread from a nearby bakery,

The beauty in life could not shake

what lurked above and beyond the clouds, I spoke out loud as I wrote.

He rolled over, annoyed.

“What’re you doing? Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“Can’t sleep. I wonder, why am I here and when will it be MY turn to leave?”

“Please stop.”

“Life is so short, there is so much going on, it’s hard to find a light at the end of the tunnel.”

“It’s not hard. Just write something cheerful then go to bed.”

“That won’t help.”

“It might.”

“You’re annoyingly optimistic.”

“That’s me. How ‘bout a martini?”

“You know I don’t drink when I’m worried or sad. Besides, I’m out of vodka.”

“Just write something positive. Something that’ll cheer you up.”

“Fine. Roses are red, violets are blue. I’m sick of wearing masks, vaccines, innocent people being attacked and killed for no reason, and I am tired of uncertainty. How the hell are YOU?”

“Funny.” He whispered then he buried his head into his pillow. Seconds later, “Did I ever tell you the story about the Depressed Tree?” His voice was muffled underneath his pillow.

“What?” I was annoyed. “A what? A Depressed Tree?”

Last week I went to CVS, I think I was going to CVS.”

“You “think? You sure you were at CVS and not some old girlfriend’s house?”

He heaved a strong sigh. “Yup, that’s exactly where I was, at my old girlfriend’s house, the one before I met you. Actually, she was my first love. I went to her house and before you knew it we had a secret wedding and we’re expecting our first child this year. I’m excited.” The smart-ass smiled.

“Fool boy, what the hell is a ‘depressed tree?’

“Okay…” He sat up in bed. “…So, I was at CVS and at the corner there are these huge trees. Well, one of them broke apart, maybe a quarter way from the base of the trunk it broke off. It smashed open a parking meter.”


“So, I looked at it and thought it might be depressed, you know? It split apart and fell in empathy to what we humans are enduring in this current environment.

I squinted at him. “Are you drunk?

“You know I don’t drink. But, I think what I saw was a metaphor, know what I’m saying? The trunk split and fell over, it broke apart in empathy of our current modlin situation. It exposed its soft, yellow splintery slivers that looked like the inside of a mango, to empathize with humans that it is as tired of this world right now as we all are. It’s a depressed tree.”

“Sir…” I squinted my eyes again at him and groaned. “…What the fuck kind of story…trees don’t get depressed, they’re not human.”

“Well, if I was a tree I’d be empathetic to what humans are currently dealing with. I would have done what that tree did. I believe trees are emotional, they have feelings.”

“Okay fine. Take me to the liquor store, we’re out of Vodka and olives. I’ll drink my martini and you’ll blaze up for all the empathetic trees in honor of us humans. How’s that sound?”

“I’ll get my coat.” He replied.

This blog post is dedicated to the victims of Buffalo , N.Y. 2022 and to ALL victims of senseless crimes perpetrated by soul-less tragic individuals.


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