Fastidious serpent ties the line between anal-retentive and OCD. Slithering cautiously through the grass, eyes wide, forked tongue ever so slightly flicking onward, outward in syncopated rhythm. Marks on the impressionable dirt where it’s been – A zig-zag, curved with no sharp corners. Green, scaly skin brand new. It’s shedding system, sister lives underground somewhere to perhaps be later found, and add to a birds nest so they babies stay warm and don’t die. The serpent does not need coffee. It is energized by venom and adrenaline and jaws clamped over a big Thanksgiving feat, feast. The world, sliced in two halves – top and bottom – to make an interplanetary, intergalactic sandwich. Knowing know, no one else but myself. Seeing every stitch all at once. Rope loops into fascinating sweaters. Dock, port, fisherman, sailor, high seas, crashing wave, always, rebirth, dynasty, dynamite explosion, fourth of July, disappointment. Roman Candle, firecracker,

Author: Roe

she/her. Songwriter & Trek Punk Soul™.

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