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Even squirrels fuck
and scratch each other
in bushes, even cars
drive by slowly, and I
have that look on my face
and the demeanor unable
to express terrific things
happening on tape
and in photos detonated
online which may
or may not have
anything to do with us.
Beater marble-sized
tiny tiny bird
amongst boughs
with red berry clusters,
people react to explosions,
bomb squads investigate
an item along the course
post-the terrifically archaic
Twin Bombs of Boston,
and maybe I’m just sweaty,
but I’m cracking me up. Please
don’t crack down on me.
Floating Wolf
