WOOD BE NICE

Time to catch up.

Normally I would do this over a cup of coffee, but there’s a distance too great that makes a quick rendezvous impossible.

That’s the trouble with LA.

I am constantly reaching back into my mind; two, three, fours years into the vault. I recently thought about what it would feel like to be a hardwood floor.

There are things to consider:

I could creak,

Maybe I’d leak.

I could be varnished,

More than likely tarnished.

Would I be scratched,

Or bi-annually waxed.

Lindenwood or Basswood.

Walnut or Fir

Things to think about…

* * *

There is an apartment in Little Italy with beautiful birch floors. When the bells of the Most Precious Blood rang the toll would reverberate off the floors and red brick. They would travel into my ear canal and wake me.

One morning I slipped on the wood. I slid out of the bedroom, right through the kitchen, down three flights of stairs and out onto Mulberry Street. Luckily my physical injuries were minor.

Socks are a hardwood floor’s worst enemy.