I am a stranger

in a familiar land,

but the topography is slowly adapting

to me,

eyebrows relaxing,

trees continuing their leafy chat

The world is whispering

over the mountain bike tracks in the mud

while the ticks are dropping from above

with neurological disease and brain damage

I hear somebody entrusting his life to an engine

on high

The consensus of the grass is green,

the trees come soaring in the wind,

It's May 1

and I'm recuperating

There is / I am an illusive presence

and a vague location

- and nothing else

When I must leak, it's urgent

Really,

I should keep my dick out at all times