young restless

eventually i (switzerland) escaped
from the put-upon tyranny, the single
handedness (me and my sunflower) that
my grounded harping-raft survived,
bravely and with negligible injury.
i wandered instead outside, crossing
the borders of china, africa (stepping
over the kangaroos) and i tugged on my
hat, in the 60 degree weather, pulling
sun from the templed sky. i strolled.
languidly, down the hill, trailed by
a squab, or a squabber, depending on
the alcoholic's mood. the pipsqueak
ran ahead. she rushed like something
unstable. a 40-pound landslide. me,
i sat under the single lightbulb and
took his questions, tugging faintly
at my cuffs. later, on the hammock,
they finally converged, like two waves,
shrieking and giggling in synchrony.
i pushed them, languidly, down and up.
i pulled on my hat and my band t-shirt.
what would i look like now, i wonder?