Que Sera, Sera, Whatever will be

We are what we eat, what we absorb, what we take in,
this is mine,
I taste and find, mmmm, worth a chew, slow said
the voice,
of the caterpillar,
of course,
smoke rings,
from the smoke stack
on a D-9 Cat, stuck in the mud,
since November,
till summertime,

lowland realization, land too flat, don't drain.

I jes' set'n'look at that,
Chrome Yeller Caterpillar, worth more than I made,
in ten years after the army,

and I laugh, at how I ain't bound to fret,
or fuss,
no nonsense was ever actually more than literaturely true.