WRITINGblaaaahg

I am just an animal!

Sometimes I stay quiet
so people will think
I am hard to impress.
I’m not smart, or serious,
I am secretly hidden
inside mellow shells keeping
animals inside, not to be mistaken
for a bird

or a firefly, any creature
desperate enough to have no
constraints, to realize
that not getting lucky
means dying before spreading
genes to the next generation
of synchronous fireflies in the
heart of the Smokies,
goddamn! I can play it cool

with a hand held loosely,
sweat passes for normal in summer,
people believe me when I say
I care mostly about Marxist land reform,
and you can’t decide where to go
based on people, and beers balance out my electro-hype
heart-pounding lightning bug monomanic instincts,
to touch and tug and leap nervously,
in the open air under a lamppost,
frenzied because I will die
when the steamy air leaves in September.