Wood
“Do you love trees?†she asked, absently jingling a handful of 10 penny spikes.
“Sure,†I grunted noncommittally. I extracted a pencil from behind my ear, entranced by the perfect, gentle swells undulating beneath her snug Earth First! t-shirt.
“I mean, really love them?†she demanded over the raspy cough of nearby chainsaws. She gazed suspiciously at the rutted logging road snaking across my back yard.
“What’s your point?†I asked leaning in for a better view, shifting my notebook to a more concealing position.
She leaped from her lawn chair, turned and crossed her arms across that luscious expanse of eco-maniacal fashion. “Well, if you don’t love trees, you can’t possibly love me!†she cried stomping down my porch steps toward the darkening woods and the stutter of happy chainsaws. I gave a lick to the finely honed point of my trusty pencil as twilight and distance swallowed her.