In the wee hours grasses laugh on playgrounds.
Rains can’t return to the sky. Birds awaken
unsure if they are able to sing. Squirrels bite the clouds.
Cracked shoes on their shoulders, totems walk away.
Then children bring sand and water to someone
who doesn’t need anything, whose nails don’t grow anymore.
Squirrels bite the clouds. Car dealers bring sunscreen
and mosquitos to God. Time, my dear friends,
he tells them, time is nonsense
invented by two-legged rabbits
and herons of dog-eared water. Also,
I doubt that you are car dealers.


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