Observing the flights that raced across his retina,
Mr. Fritz finally eased out of his hammock. He had
nothing else to do this lazy day. First he put a thick
lens invention in front of his eye. The world jumped
with details. He fine tuned the box all the wires ran to.
The connection created vision made of horizontal
lines that he could follow like yarn in a maze.
Taking up the fading thread of one, he pursued it
across the field, along the dazzling wall of garden
flowers to where it landed on the mossy bark of an
old elm tree. He tuned dials to see more clearly
what was happening on the trunk. The line ended
in a little green bug who had flown all the way here.
It waved its six legs to another bug it met and
Mr. Fritz had to zoom in close for this astonishment.
The bug whose life he chose to chase, pulled out
a blur of something and had it punched in the smallest
machine. It passed the timecard to another bug,
who then counted out frail scales of money. Mr. Fritz’s
bug stuffed them under its wing and sprang with a joy
off back into the wind.
'Home Recordings' (Bird Dog Publishing, 2009)
Photos taken yesterday at job
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