h a l f b a k e r y
"Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
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A small, tasteful--well, tasteless, really, but tasteless in a
tasteful way--granite gravestone at the head of a square
patch of astroturf just large enough for a person to stand
A fake tea light in a plastic wind protector flickers next to a
fading bouquet of plastic flowers.
step on the green, the scale measures my weight, and
lights up behind what turns out to be a very thin sliver of
granite, creating the illusion of a chiseled number:
2 0 0 . 6
I sigh and bow my head in remembrance of better days.
Salad it is, again.