I am a stranger
in a familiar land,
but the topography is slowly adapting
to me,
eyebrows relaxing,
trees continuing their leafy chat

The world is whispering
over the mountain bike tracks in the mud
while the ticks are dropping from above
with neurological disease and brain damage

I hear somebody entrusting his life to an engine
on high

The consensus of the grass is green,
the trees come soaring in the wind,

It's May 1
and I'm recuperating

There is / I am an illusive presence
and a vague location
- and nothing else

When I must leak, it's urgent

Really,
I should keep my dick out at all times