ya well what else is there to do on a tuesday

one of the
funniest things
i’ve ever read
was
an article
in Rolling Stone
magazine
when i was
around
12 years old
about how
mascots
at sporting events
routinely
get the shit
kicked out of them
by fans
who lose control
and
“forget”
that there is
a real person inside
the costume.

an attractive body
clads itself in
skin tight pants.
i notice this and
move my own body
so as to have a
better field of view.
to watch
the attractive body
as it walks.

the clouds were
loose and high
earlier
this morning.
the existence of
sun,
more obvious.
now,
the clouds are
growing thick and
stolid.
they are being
pulled close
by our human hopes;
the sun
doesn’t much care
that we grow glum
at its evaporation.

sometimes
i wear a backpack
that is too small
for what i carry.
i cram it full of
all the things
i wish to have
with me,
until it bloats
like balloon
on my back.
zippers strain.
straps dig
into flesh.
i look stupid
when i walk.
or
so i think.

a body wears an
over-full backpack
as it walks
down a
tiny street.
i laugh at it
from inside.
what that looks like is;
i am smiling.

a round and
portly and
sweating body
mounts a
stair-stepping
exercise
machine
right next to the
spinning belt
exercise
machine
that my body
is on.
that body feels
too close
to mine.
inside,
i think
violent thoughts,
i think of
the absurdity of
human animals
keeping other,
usually smaller,
animals,
as pets.
i think of how these
kept animals
like to eat,
just as we do.
cats eat the body of
their keeper.
pigs eat the body
of theirs, too.
dogs kill babies
and kids
and adults and
old people.
this happens
all the time.
what these thoughts
look like
on the outside is;
i am smiling.

a truck is big
and it is loud
and oh heck ya
it is tough.
inside it,
a body.
big,
loud,
heck
fucking
tough.
the truck is
compelled
by the body.
the truck rolls
over a hole
in the road
with impressive speed.
the body inside,
bounces violently.
head of body
nearly strikes
roof of truck.
body inside
of truck
nearly loses control
of truck
due to violent
bouncing.
what this looks like is;
i am smiling.

the heart
sometimes hurts
and
sometimes is bright
with glee.
the head
sometimes pains
and
sometimes is aglow
with pleasure.
sometimes
the actions
of the moment
are preferred
and
sometimes
the entirety of the day
is a bear
gnawing on
your fingers.
its big hairy paw
pressing you down.
often times
it is hard
to catch the breath,
slippery
in our mouths.
many times
it is impossible
to give light to
the caverns
inside us.
what this looks like is;
i am smiling.

against a background of varying densities of black and gray, a tufted sprig of a plant is shown. it looks a bit like hay, though it is not. it is a plant in the Fall, wearing its creamy tan colored foliage with unassuming splendor.

Published by Zak

an intertidal island in an ocean of impermanence.

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