She calls me a smart
I call myself a small
I'm a tiny like an ant
I carry my own things
To achieve what whishes wait for me
Yeah,world is round
Sky is round
I'm a tiny like an ant
Open  my mind' window
To recieve the intution' facts

I cross the same bridge everyday,
There are always the same people,
With their different purposes,
Or is it the same?

Today I saw God begging for a coin,
On the bridge.
Nobody looked at him,
I guess they were mad,
So was I.

I came to God and slapped his face,
He understood and didn't fight back,
I hit him for everything,
Like an ant that escapes from the farm,
After several minutes I remembered that I don't believe in God,
Not this guy with a beard anyway,
So I stopped and continued my way.

I returned for a last punch in the face,
Just in case.
This reminded me of my first fight with Tyler.

fire ant performs
acrobatics, on a leaf,
pauses for applause!

moving ants,millions
from the hanging rock's crack
swarming,seeking what?

Nervous that way I take peanut butter from the jar
where blinking and licking overlap
messily and focus is the last thing on
my mind.

There, just there scooped
is where the thought
returns.

No high flying; no explanation
just back, and the jar gets
put on the shelf of the
cupboard
of wood, the oldest part of the house,
and I cannot recall to write it the smell of
peanuts jarred and ant poison and southern
yellow
pine.