hollow

An empty crevice lies empty at the bottom of a tree stump. Notwithstanding repetition and redundancy to focus the matter at hand, but here is where items can be kept in storage with little or no security. The risk is 100% yours to take. But in an empty wood, where the cawing of crows harmonies with the flitter of other various birds and crickets as the sky begins to darken, maybe you can leave your stuff here and no one will take it and nothing will happen to it. I suppose it also depends on how long you leave it for. There is no rent on this hollowed out tree stump; Nature gives and nature provides. Nature meets herself where she is and doesn’t get stressed out or tries to impress anyone. What you see is what you get and then some. Because sometimes you get what you can’t even see, or remain ignorant to see in some cases. A bowl of mild salsa lies empty at an Mexican restaurant waiting to be refilled. Salt and lime linger on taste buds from tortilla chips. Stomach not hollow at present, but very full and requesting another margarita. Lysosome cellular regeneration and cleaning agents. Ninth grade biology seemed so impossible. It still does, but the memory is far enough away where I refuse to care. And even though I don’t and won’t, my mind is not hollow; I am not worse off for it.