freelance free baller
freely falling in the fresh foliage
looking up at the slowly drifting clouds
head cradled by mounded crab grass
lifes little ponders
begin to take shape
fleeting images of bitten cupcakes
and rattlesnake bowties,
dandruff flakes
and broken rake handles
dialog follows, at first innocent
but soon more sinister
“Will I be rich?”
“Could I live on grass blades as if I were a cow?”
"When I stop in traffic does the momentum from my car effect
flapping butterfly wings?”
darkness follows
psychic energy blotting out the sun
“I ought to **** that *******!”
“She thinks she just… just can act like I don’t exist.”
“That dog better not *** on the sofa.”
settling in, a bee bounces aimlessly of a reddening shoulder
invoking a quick slap
enough inertia to send the small insect reeling
rolling over and propping himself on an elbow
the thought crosses his sun soaked mind
“At least I am alive.”