sitting here
laptop on lap
typing away
I hear rustling
outside
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
indifferently
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.
