a neon green frog
grows on my keyboard
imagine if he asks me
do I need a lift to the fair?
shall I go exposed
or displayed?
or put a feather in it
and call it food?
but the neon green frog
doesn’t ask me if I need the lift
doesn’t slow just goes on by
the sound of the motor
fading into the dark beyond poetry
into the Lee Harvey Oswald Territories
where the bananas survived
but the monkeys did not
dog barks
dog barks
woman speaks
dog lays down
goes quiet for quick dreams
of deer running hot & just ahead
i ask about the burial procedures of the locals
but it’s all over the fucking map what they do
with the dead out here
​
