the nuts of a ground squirrel

sitting here
laptop on lap
typing away
I hear rustling
in the trash.

I look out the screen door
see a ground squirrel
digging a hole
placing something
then covering up the hole
and rustling again.

it’s in the trash
collecting my scraps
for feasting later.

I never noticed it before
but that squirrel
has balls!

a little tiny furry sack of nuts
hanging between his legs.
he stands up on two legs
looks at me
then goes back into my trash.

I get up to look at him
he stands up out of the trash
on two legs
with a damn pretzel out of
his mouth
like a fucking cigar!

“motherfucker,” I say.

he takes off
bouncing through the sand
through the fence
with that stogie
hanging between it’s lips.

why can’t I dig through
trash cans
with no clothes on
with my balls hanging out
looking at others indifferently?

it’s because of our upbringing.
our pretend religious guilt.
I hate that squirrel because of
who he is
and because of who I am not.

in the distance,
the squirrel stands again on two legs
grabs the pretzel from it’s mouth
and blows out a perfect smoke ring.

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