stones…

Used to walk ’round town pickin’ up stones…all kinds…some fit in the palm of your hand…others a little bigger…then there were some small pebbles found down by the river…different shades of brown and gray from where rain and the Sun had performed their magic…makin’ a few of ’em shiny…those stuck out in the crowd…

Found rocks with paint on them…blue…black…red…orange colors…men had come along with spray paint and covered nature’s beauty…I’d pick ’em up…collect those too…put them in a seperate pile out in the backyard…made these shrines of rock…piled ’em up pyramid style…placed strategically throughout the garden…mixed with wild flowers…created a stream runnin’ over ’em…a brook…

It became this obsession…collectin’ stones and pebbles…I’d wake up in the middle of the night with a flashlight and go lookin’ for ’em…kept focused on the ground throughout the year…in winter time I’d dig up snow with my bare hands to find ’em…it was like a treasure hunt…come fall there’d be leaves coverin’ ’em up…kicked them away with my right foot…boots would get all muddy…wife complained ’bout trackin’ dirt all over the house…she’d clean up ‘fore I got to it…guess she got tired of wipin’ down floors…she left one day…never came back…mumbled ’bout bein’ tired of non-sense…said she married a fool…maybe she did…

Pitched a tent out back with my stones…didn’t wanna step foot in the house no more…became this wild man…long hair…beard down to my chest…cared ’bout nothin’ in the world but collectin’ rocks…didn’t work…didn’t eat but when I had to…sold my car…furniture…everything I had…it was never enough…times got tight…

But the pyramids were gettin’ bigger…pilin’ up rock after rock…people’d walk by the back gate just to see ’em…so proud of ’em…like I’d really done somethin’…guess I did…guess i did…

I’m seventy-seven now and I still collect rocks…pile ’em up…leavin’ a legacy behind…hopefully when i’m gone they’ll still be there…hopefully…hopefully…

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