Or will be so...in the future!?

A hunting we will go, in our tuxedos, for in a moment's notice we may need to dance and sip champagne.

We're out in the wilderness. A slice of heaven, Parksdale, Missouri. A skyline from here to ya-ya. I bet those clouds go all the way up.

I was being stared at, as usual, by a hound dog. He was panting an easy going smile. He tried to maintain eye contact, and I with him, as we in the group munched cold chicken on the heated rocks, the opening of the trail within the over wise dense bushes, dense like a homemade pesto. Dense like a fire-brick pizza. Dense like a backyard game of hopscotch. The trail was dense like everything we left behind in old New York.

Except, it was a different kind of dense. It was uniform. It was in the natural world with a natural order. Sure, the backyard and stoop squabbles down 5th by the Bowery were if nothing natural. Natural to the area, to the squalor, the glint of sun off bricks, reflections distorted in show-room mirrors where person and product shown back in unified and deified light. Natural like the young girls flipping their hair at anyone with the fleeting attention that papa couldn't deliver between working night shifts and drinking away day shifts. Natural as the word "bupkus" spit between Spanish and Italian by men in shirtsleeves playing dominoes to beat the afternoon heat.

But we were in a real nature now. Natural as natural only in the density of the unification of what it was that made of the thing. Examples? Just go outside and breathe the fresh air, you termite. Stop burrowing into my bad writing for a taste. Its out there.

So anyway. Me. The group eating. The hound dog staring. Parksdale, Missouri. The sun was going down and we were getting sleepy, overheated in our tuxedos. Still awaiting word from the party ahead on whether to make camp and take out the partyfare, the champagne, the whistles and blowers and mad-cap laughs.

It was almost New Years. Did I mention that? Yup. Almost. It was a month away, and we were doing reconnasance to see if an outdoor hiking biddy party in tuxedos could be done for our farewell to the year 2887.

Did I mention it was the future? And we all had dog ears as a genetic mutation? And dog ears had us? And dogs were still dogs, but we could empathize more because we could all hear really good, and listening is the key to empathy? I think I forgot to mention those parts.

But its all true, nothing but the true, so help me Trudy.

Did I mention the hound dog was named Trudy? Or will be so...in the future!?