Pollen Count

Standing on the porch, she looks back at the footprints left behind in the green silt. Cat’s paws, men’s boots, women’s dress shoes. It’s all decorated with the little wormy things that’ve been coming off the trees like rats of a sinking ship.

“Ugh,” she says.


“It’s so gross. It’s like the trees are basically having sex all over us.”

“No it’s not,” I say. “Please don’t say that.”

4 Comments so far

  1. Tessa (unregistered) on March 29th, 2007 @ 10:41 am

    Oops you did it again. (Double posted.)

  2. Will (unregistered) on March 29th, 2007 @ 10:52 am

    Whoops! Thanks for the heads-up. I dunno why I didn’t see that when I checked to see how it looked.

  3. Annie (unregistered) on March 29th, 2007 @ 8:16 pm

    Um, did what again? Great post.

    I hate those wormy things.

  4. pinkyracer (unregistered) on March 31st, 2007 @ 2:11 pm

    That’s cute! I never thought of it like that. It kinda makes me feel at one with nature and stuff. Like the trees love us and just want to give us their love-dust the same way they give us all that oxygen we crave so much…

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