sitting under
watching the stream morph
into a flat tailed beaver
that is moving by
like a branch caught in forces of water.
remembering that
it would storm more often
the sky would light up like
a sparking motherboard
and soon my shirt and skin would unite.
walking back
from the secluded sight
through geysers of grass
growing in a path
that was a plain of pine needles.
thinking that
it would snow and we would
build igloos and mine for gold,
like they did in alaska
but now snowballs are hard to come by.
running now
from the fiefdom of hornets
i must have unsuspectingly
stumbled upon their nest
and my skin isn’t impregnable like a lawnmower.
knowing that
the hornets replaced the ticks
that quietly sucked away life
until the ticks disappeared
taking the lone cow in the pasture across the street.
Unknown, likely June 2001
