Out Here

All these letters in the alphabet. Every one is alive out here. 

Tall rooted t’s and unholy white o’s

in punctuated rows casting shade 

beneath the base of a great bright orange one. 

U bent creeks and double u springs,

bubble where, bubble up why, 

right into the bottle before dinner tonight.

X marks a place where two t’s met their fate 

and p’s and q’s and r’s and s’s

are scattered around like autumn leaves. 

This is where we learned to read. 

Where we scavenged language like food to eat.

Too late we learn it wasn’t food. 

And walked off long bark wrapped lists of options. 

Berries growing a’ la carte, ripe off the branch. 

Motivation. My friends.

Brains did not learn left to right and slowly down 

beneath disciplinarian hands and furrowed crowns.

But digging up brown. Swallowing worms with black finger nails and scratching around. 

Picking up putrid little p’s praying 

each one isn’t poisoned. 

Capitol G’s crawling lugging along their shells. 

All these letters in the alphabet. 

To taste, touch, see and smell. 

This is where we learned to eat. 

Out here. 

Looking for something to read.

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