«Mmmm…»
Hold it there, Signor Sher: I just
saw you rolling round the sun-caressed
grass villi like a cub fucking
for the 1st time—well, OK, nothing
o’ this I truly saw; but I did glimpse flashing
colors through your eyes into your mind, basking
in your soft cotton sweats &
your puffy jacket. Think you’re the cream on the pumpkin
pie, right? Wrong! We were saving this
sweet & sour sunlight. It wasn’t meant for you.
Nothing is.
That’s right: put it all back where
you found it—all o’ the slick hair-
like grass; all o’ the viney
wrinkles on every oak; every
juicy loose-leaf hugging your
shoeless socked feet; & all 4
seasons. Don’t miss e’en the most worthless
piece. We’ll count them all to ascertain
that they’re all returned.
As for you, you
need to get a clue:
snooze.
