i look at the skyline. it lets me feel better

a small path
between a patch of
open forest and
a dead end
two lane

up ahead,
a man crosses
this road pushing
a bike.
he continues pushing
along the path.

i look briefly
look back,
he’s gone.

the forest has to be
regularly beaten back
from the path.
the berry bushes
hacked and tamed.

a slug
slugs wetly
on the ground.
a longer look and
i see its guts
exploded quietly from it.

monster trucks
roam benignly
along the brief bits
of road.
there are only
a few miles
of road here;
the monster trucks are
hemmed in.
the monster trucks are
the monster trucks are

the ground.

turning towards
the woods,
the branches
are quiet in the wind.

the human settlements,
so often

my father had his
chest split open and
the heart removed.
i am uncertain if
it was ever
put back.
he was hollow
and pale,
after that.
he was yellow and
always whistling.

had my father
been taught that
is really just
displaced love,
perhaps then
i would have
learned how to
be happy.

happiness is
a form of

the planet,
every day,
it disappears and
comes back.
it expands and
expands and

like a heart.

Published by Zak

an intertidal island in an ocean of impermanence.

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