A machete for cutting the brush, the kids say excited, in our nearly brushless backyard
not a weapon and rat poison, too, i hide it from you
Ya know, there is something going around, a chest thing, people have died you say like
Just thought you should know
A gas can placed oddly, alone below the pipes leading to my bedroom, why
A strange smell, all for the skunk, for you or not?
On you, this i know by heart.
There once was a squirrel
writhing in death, pain you suspect
at least that’s what you said
I couldn’t look at its body
half-crushed through the middle, plastered partially to the pavement
i rode on but you insisted to go back
put it out of its presumed misery.
So altruistic of you to find a rock
spiritual sensitivity aside the highest living tissue on the body
reflects higher truths upon me i know
whether inflammation has abated
a philosophical conflict, strong psychic phenomenon
may trigger distress to the skin
no need for your sympathy
please leave my lotions alone.