Standing on a pile of diamonds you’re finally able to see over that totem pole blocking your view of the woods. You see then that all the trees have decided totem pole is the new look and are busy peeling off bark to carve crude face shapes into each others’ sweet green flesh. You make out the bad faces: Face of T-Rex, Face of Racehorse, Face of the A&W Bear, and realize these trees don’t know the right animals. Even the old thick redwoods are gouging wide-eyed into their brothers with long awkward branches; knot-knuckled pine-arms and fur-fingers working Face of Chewbacca into the grain.
Each tree has a true face – just below the lowest bough – which is like a cat face, only less alert. Less aware. You want to shout: No! You look fantastic au naturel! But your mouth is full of the diamonds you’ve been scooping in there while you watch.
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