The sofa at the edge of the forest

Again, the Greatful Dead are the inspiration for my writing. Just a box of rain…
And "The Restaurant at the End of the universe" by Douglas Adams is the godfather for the title of this post.
The sofa at the edge of the forest. "I don't know who put it there" the Greatful Dead are singing into my ears through my headphones. Whereas they mean the box of rain, I mean a symbol for irresponsible idiocy.
Someone put a sofa there. You can still see the tire tracks of the mini-van they must have used.
The only one who would have liked that is the Bauernbergpark Man.
However, this is not at the Bauernbergpark, but at about a distance of 30 miles from that.
Now it looms there, blue and gray, losing color in the spring rainfall.
It is there a week now although the local authorities know about it.
A 21st century bullshit memorial.
It really made me angry.
Now as I walk by every day with the dog the anger is gone.
In the town there was the Bauernbergpark Man, here it is the sofa, that reminds me how luxurious my life is. I can afford to bring my old sofas to the waste dump, although I have the one with the black leather pillows stored away in the cellar, I must confess.
So I am waiting.
Waiting for the day when the sofa is gone again.
I hope it will be replaced by nothing.
Maybe at night, with the full moon out, the ghost of the Bauernbergpark Man will sit on the sofa and roll a cigarette. Then he will smoke it before he will start one of his rituals.
I won't care much for I will be lying in my bed, dreaming of an edge of the forest without sofas and Bauernbergpark Men.