walks around with his hands behind his back, calmly.
bird: you could start the calm walking now. my indian
name would be Crashing Wave and i would stand on
a cliff overlooking the ocean, like i knew what the future
holds.
yab: my name would be Tinker Wings and i would
gingerly teach birds with broken wings to fly again,
literally and figuratively.
bird: Beauty. i could silently point to the birds and then
smile ever so slightly, so that you could bestow your
healing powers. then i would inhale deeply from my
pipe and blow animal shaped smoke rings off into
the distance.
yab: and then we would hold hands at the end of
each evening and glide off the cliff in a perfect
swan dive, hit the ocean and calmly swim through
the waves to the shore and drink our homemade
flavored vodkas and dole out anecdotes to the
locals, with moral dilemmas and always-life
lessons.
bird: each moral dilemma would in turn become a
life lesson for another local. after sharing our woes
and giving advice we will exchange gifts and break
into beautiful song while animals gather around us.
then toast to our wisdom and the feeling of peaceful
energy.
that's how i know we're best friends,
yab
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