walnuts raze when it was still warm enough outside to walk around in shorts and a t-shirt, i caught a few of my customers chewing on the top rail of the fence that borders my back yard. i know that's how they keep their teeth trimmed and clean. i thought walnuts might give them something constructive to do with their need to gnaw. not the halves and pieces they're used to eating. the whole ones that are still in the shell. my friends in the park love the things. they treat them like bowling balls you can bury. i've never seen anyone crack one open. but i figure someone's bound to get hungry enough to finish the job at some point. at home it's a different story. i left one as a gift in the bombed-out fire pit that's become a makeshift dining room. the dude who discovered it flew halfway to heaven. when he was able to make himself brave enough to get a closer look, he prodded the nut with one hand like it was a bomb he thought might explode. i got pretty much the same reaction when i tried holding one in my hand and showing the others there was nothing to worry about. i guess we don't have any walnut trees around here. i don't know what primal fear the shells of these seeds unlock in them. i only know they don't see food. they see something awful. then again, if i were the size of my own hand from wrist to fingertips and someone handed me something that looked like a fossilized scrotum, i might balk too. 221121 ... kerry i went to pre-school at a presbyterian church (across the street from the bar where i last saw danny}. the playground was all woodchips, the play structures also wood and metal like they used to be. i have distinct memories of chasing trevor and dennis under the swinging bridge, down the slide, along the chain link fence that barely contained us. this was before i was self-conscious and couldn't fathom the idea of a boy ever remembering my face. there was a walnut tree that grew i believe on the eastern side of the playground. in quieter moments we milled about under the tree, picking up walnuts and cracking them open to eat the meat inside. sometimes they were rancid, but usually they were tangy and soft. our teachers told us not to eat them but we--maybe just i?--couldn't help myself from hunting and treasuring them, like easter eggs, like little gems. 221122 what's it to you? who go blather from