Improvisation 2

I am the child not the kid since a kid is baby goat. I offend the goats; these goats are easily offended. They are not offended; they are my words.

I remember as a child sitting upon tiny trees. I sit there eating wild berries. It's all there is. Tiny trees and berries.

I won't tell you about the hornets.

OK I remember: Here we have a long black snake taken from the brush and briars. Upon the road it's molested and teased by kids with sticks. This snake, furious, arches it's black back that glistens in the sun, and spits a mouth like cats.

These are my memories, my memories, as if from a tree they
drop rotten flowers; These words bloom and are quickly rotten.

Mommy please change the subject. Always she changes the subject and she goes on and on.

I tell you the stone walls of New England they go on and on. They are so lonely. They've survived long past the wooden shacks and barns that have with the years collapsed within their cellars.