animal(s) will

i am not forgetting
my extremely old components
when i sleep
i house a mr. cellophane
man beneath my lids
he’s there on a cliff, —
i’ll call it a nude bluff
full of (at)tension
&i can see him/me
&it’s not as dissociated
as you’d think; hey,
i’ve often perceived
tender lady fingers
bringing me
to the threshold before,
so this is normal
that he/me/we are
there for bread
as i wait in a car
with a bird’s eye view
with my daughters around me
collectively (they are me
also of course) 10 eyes
eye-balling the masculine
to steal what we need, —
a loaf of bread’s our limit
&does he/she/we succeed?
of course not, though it’s
in our hands! he’s caught,
dammit, so now the we/she
must control our impulse
to simply drive off
over the cliff instead
of to the police station
like we intend to do to
be law-abiding animals,
the non-evasive type
right now, — until
i pull it together
in the morning, put feet
to floor and trace foot-
steps to the bathroom
not convicted of anything

::

for Real Toads and
playing it again with
Carl Jung dream type
work for Hedge

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