you find a completely empty picnic area--
showing up dressed as a widow.
black kerchief wrapped around your head--
tied at the chin, a predominance of cheeks
with a buggy-bulge of purple horn rim glasses.
barefoot with a black dress on, obscuring
splatters of sweat: back/*******/paunch.
holding an ice sculpture of a fruit basket on a
ninety degree day.
you spread a white sheet & set it down, as
large ants congregate on this succulently
carved chunk of ice.
you then get naked, save for the black kerchief--
as if undergoing a strip search in prison.
sitting Indian style--chanting the sutras of an
emotional *******, while periodically licking
the melting fruit basket to sate your thirst.
until one of the large ants bites your tongue.