R.I.P. Patio Umbrella

Here I am, sitting on the lower balcony, enjoying a wonderful cup of fresh-brewed coffee, typing away on my laptop, when suddenly, there's a crash from above. The dog jumps up and starts barking. My heart stops. I look around wondering what the hell just happened. Then I see it. My lovely patio umbrella floating down to the street below. Well, it didn't necessarily float. It fell. Crashed and burned. A gust of wind murdered the umbrella. As I watched it slam onto the pavement below, my heart broke just a bit. But thank little-baby-Jesus that there were no other casualties. No bike riders or pedestrians. No dogs. No cars. No horse-drawn carriages. There is always someone or something in the street. Whew. But still. The umbrella is no more. It fell victim to the mighty winds of the Mississippi. As I sadly placed it into the garbage bin, my thoughts were glum. The owner of the sex shop stood guard over the scene. The owner of MRB hung his head in sorrow. We've all lost something today. But I'm guessing some homeless dude will scoop you up, and give you new life. As a cover to the rain. You will guard over him while he sleeps on the street. You will go on a new adventure. Either to the levees and back streets with Mr. Homeless Dude or to the city dump. But you are no longer mine. So now. Only the base remains. And will remain. As an everlasting memorial to the loss of my friend in times of sun, when all I needed was shade. Alas, patio umbrella, you will be missed. . .