Attack in the Garden

Corn whispers a raspy
          Cardboard on cement note

A train spits
          A toot
                    As if it’s choking on a fly

Trucks slowly back up
          With helium-filled sea lion roars

Birds tap their cautious
          Morse code
                     To the
                               Cuties passing by

A snake hose
          Hisses out water

Water pops on leaves
          As if
                    Miniature children
                              Were jumping oin puddles
                                        On a leaf trampoline

I lay still,
          camouflaged in plants                    And smeared with dirt

I thought I was hidden,

The friction of my hand typewriting onto
          The paper

I should have known,        

He slid across the ground silently
          Belly almost touching the ground
                    Tightroping my blind spot

Until it’s too late

He’s poking my stomach with both hands
          In a victorious trance
                    Dance

After two and a half circles
          The game of musical chairs is over

He puddles onto me
          I’ll be here a while

Pullin For What You Want

Push your hands

Into your seat

And

Lift your butt up

One inch

And hold there.

That’s what it was like

In reverse.

That kind of energy.

Only holding myself

Down.

My soul rising

With all of

It’s strength.

Grabbing onto the

Exit door. 

Hooked in like

A cat

Above

A tub of water.

My mind spinning

My own personal planet.

Faster and faster

Around my seat.

Creating the gravity

Needed

To Keep

Me there.

My heart ever

Darkening

And deflating

With each

Breath of

Recycled air.

My eyes go blurry

In the fluorescent light.

Until one day

What am I doing

Becomes

What do I want.

Nurture the Lion

The repulsive radiance of

Monitors

Monitored by IT to keep

You on

The treadmill.

They pay you

The same

Every

Calendar time.

They task you with

Distance

But hold you to

Minutes

King Solomon

Would be proud

To keep myself

There

I would have to

Cut out a part

Of myself

But I showed

I was

My own

Owner

We agreed on

The race

But

They assumed that

My pace

Wouldn’t knock over

The pyramid

Of sand

Before it was time

Just pretend to

Be

Busy

Like all the rest

But I wouldn’t

Trade myself in

I tried staying

In the chair

To stare

At

That glare

Feeling as my ancestors did

When

In the presence of a starving lion

You can’t placate it

With anything but food

The lion in me

Fed on purpose

And

Sunlight in the pupils.