If their jackasses can run
with their teeth wobbling
in their goofy heads
from so much running
from so much running
from so much work spent escaping from leisure

then perhaps we can learn to play
behind the library
perhaps we can look at the ferns
while the vinyl spins
quicker in the pond-soaked yard
and the overflow
fills a fetus jar with murky green
for the firehose to finish
with a hydrogen lobotomy