ROBB TODD
Someone actually let me have a book. My first collection of fiction is on sale. You can even enjoy a Kindle edition.
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© 2012 Robb Todd
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I ALSO HANG OUT HERE
OTHER PEOPLE'S STUFF
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Another Drums Along The Hudson Pic. #inwoodpark #inwood #inwoodhillpark #washingtonheights #washheights #newyork #city #newyorkcity #nyc #Uptown...
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“No one is ever really alone. You are part of everything alive.”— William S. Burroughs, Queer
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Skull Crystal LED Door Knob
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“Malia and Sasha and a bunch of my friends and Michelle had sort of like a roast, a little private roast, each one of them read something and Malia...”
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“I’ve no light in me
but that I reflect of you.
You are stars to me.” -
1316
Look, single dudes, the world will never be in short supply of
ticking-clock women who want kids, so just stay in a little bit of...
Tag Results
12 posts tagged parks
SPRING TRAINING IN INWOOD HILL PARK
The third baseman would not keep his glove down. The second baseman threw the ball over the first baseman’s head every time. The shortstop knew what he was doing. Everyone in the outfield was asleep.
21 Plays
The man pointed at a pigeon perched on the back of a bench and said it wanted to sit on my arm if I would give it somewhere to land. He called the birds by name. “Come here, Cinnamon. Here, girl.” I held my arm out.
BAH TO THE DISPASSIONATE, KNOTTY CHORUS
A large hawk hunted for food in in the park. I sipped coffee and ate a biscuit and watched the bird, hoping. Someone claimed it was an eagle. Its spread wings were wide and beautiful.
The bird was difficult to photograph and so was this dude who walked by wearing a fur coat and black baseball cap with “LET’S FUCK” stitched in white letters across the front.
The hawk perched on low branches and when it spotted a pigeon or some other small bird not paying attention it swooped at them and tried to snatch them from the air with its talons. It also dive-bombed squirrels and just missed plucking them from tree trunks.
A woman on a bench near mine was laughing but her laughs sounded like sobs. I looked over every now and then and she was smiling and joking with a man, touching his knee a lot, but when I looked away I was sure she was weeping.
The squirrels sent warnings to each other with jittery tail signals and others hugged branches tight and kept their heads down while making some kind of weird chirping — a rodent alarm — whenever the hawk was near.
A boy ran away from his mother toward a puddle near the dog run.
“I love this puddle!” the kid yelled.
“No, don’t do it!” the mom said but he was already in the air.
The splash and the delighted scream scared the hawk and it flew to another branch on the other side of the park. It did not catch anything but it kept trying. It was not an eagle.
Sometimes you’re just walking down the street, minding your own business, when a guy has a cat on his head.
Wheelchair sippy cup
A young woman pushed an old man in a wheelchair and he stared at me while he drank from a sippy cup. I was carrying coffee in one hand and breakfast in the other: two eggs, potatoes and toast that I bought for ninety-nine cents at a place that is famous for hotdogs.
I sat in a park near a statue of a man on horseback who is long dead and I ate and thought about the wheelchair and the sippy cup. The steam in the styrofoam container made my burnt toast soggy. In mid-bite, a bird or some animal in a tree pooped on my favorite shirt. The poop was blue, like the animal was eating berries, and it made a big stain, like a pen broke, like like like a lot of things. Like blue poop. I wiped it with a napkin and groaned about my favorite shirt and slid over a bit on the bench and ate the rest of my over-cooked eggs and blue poop struck me again. The same animal, certainly. This must have been intentional.
I reached for another napkin and knocked my coffee over and it spilled all over the place.
A WALK THROUGH WASHINGTON SQUARE PARK
A man fed pigeons. One stood on his head, others on his shoulders and lap. They pecked in his hair and ears. The man moved slowly. The fountain made a rainbow and a breeze sprayed people with mist. A band played. People said nice things to each other.
20 Plays
PINHOLE CODES IN PRISON BOOKS
The kind of heat that makes city dwellers climb into fountains in their undergarments. Woman with no shirt wearing a bra. A friend claimed he is the only person who exists and everyone else is something he imagined. A mother and a son and the son’s hair. “You can’t let me near reflective surfaces. They’re great. It’s faster and not as accurate.” A man rode a tandem bicycle alone, no helmet. Who uses pay phones? My friend swears he imagined me, just made me up. Who knows any telephone number but his own? The boy flipped his hair. The I-am-so-above-this eye roll. Maybe I should thank my friend. Woman with shirt not wearing a bra. Elevator music critic. I have never seen a pigeon walk backwards.
Birds like french fries. Hey, that would be a really bad title for a book.
Birds Like French Fries
by Robb Todd
Naw. Nope. Uh-uh. Not bad enough. Although using “like” instead of “enjoy” makes it a little blurry. Perhaps there is a double-meaning! That would make it even worse, yet it is somehow still not bad enough. How about these?
Half-Hours with Hand Mirrors
Nothing to Do with Goats
You Can Put This on Your Blog
Strange Windows
A Day with No Cheese
Easter Heist
I Do Not Run for Trains
Pigeon
A Book Not About Vampires
