THE TASTE OF HEAD


He likes it here. It is always a bit cold in this space where the concrete heads look as if they might roll over and start to crush anyone who might be careless enough to step in the way. It's a habit he has developed. Coming to this place. This park which is not too far from where he often works.

The toothbrush isn't enough and he knows he can't floss for a few hours. So, he stops by the market a few blocks from here. And, with a bit of the money earned, he picks up a bag of Bridge Mix. He knows it was designed for old ladies who blame some sort of card game back in the days of Dick Van Dyke and Mary Tyler Moore. But, he loves Bridge Mix and it tastes so good with the Mexican soda he can always find in the back of the store.

So, on Tuesdays and Thursdays he comes to this place. He sits with his bag of Bridge Mix and bottle of Mexican soda. He thinks about the possible harm those beautiful heads could inflict. He pulls out the postcard he created months earlier. He wants to send in to that post secret blog dude but he is worried that someone might figure out it is his secret. And, he can't help but wonder if his secret is so very bad that it is just best to leave the postcard near one of the heads.

It is always like this.

He takes sucks on a piece of the Bridge Mix and then lets the unchewed piece of nut slide down his throat with a swig of soda. It makes his throat feel better for a little while. He wonders if his throat even hurts or if is just some sort of psychological stain from his father. But, this taste. This taste is all too real and horrible. This taste only bothers him on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

He wonders if he were to lay down next to one of the heads if he might be crushed.

The soda bottle is empty. He likes the sound of the bottle smashing against the lightest head.

Today is a bit different. Today, he pulls his post secret postcard out and pushes it under the largest head. He figures maybe someone will find it and know his horrible secret. He is relieved that it will not be posted on the world wide web. He pushes his head into the side of the sculpture and whispers the secret into the concrete. He remembers seeing this in a foreign film once. He pauses for a moment as he realizes that the characters in that movie were whispering their secrets into trees or something.

He shrugs. It doesn't matter. The secret now rests with the heads, but the taste remains in his mouth. It is such a bitter and sick taste.

He is full of this bitter, but all smiles as he walks up the path back to the parking lot where they wait. Such is the price of Bridge Mix and Mexican soda.

He hears the rumble of rocks rolling from behind. And, he starts to turn around, but it is too la ---

(visit my friend's new website and check out his artwork. He took the picture above and his name is Alan Kropp. I think he is quite talented. check

IT out