7 - Chair Tree.
joneworlds@mailbox.org

On the last weekend of  September, as I have every
year since I  was a small boy, we  hiked deep into
the woods  on the  other side  of the  ridge where
Terg  fell  from, back  before  the  first of  the
centaurs started appearing. There is a tree there,
not  so unlike  other  trees when  first we  found
it. It  must have  said something  to us  way back
then, and now we return once again as we have ever
since, to solemnly hang another plastic deck chair
from its branches. This  year, we found one tossed
away   behind    the   Wal-mart   out    in   Port
Rodiqum.  Somehow that  store is  still operating,
and we go there occasionally for a supply run.

Toss  the rope  over a  branch twice,  knot, pull,
tighten, and when  it is done, we  all pass around
the flask and think of what is to come one day. By
now there are dozens of plastic chairs raised high
in a tree that no one will ever find. Seems silly?
Yeah, maybe a bit. But  these days we seek comfort
in  permanence, something  cemented in  our shared
secrecy.