The back yard was covered

in the miniature jungle

of moss, earth bound mold,

secret fortress for the Viet-Cong

and hiding holes

for the alien Predator, casually

smoking Park Drive cigarettes

as it polished the remains

of a once scurrying beetle

late for work no more.

 

I have had no reason to venture out there,

like my childhood, when wet

or not allowed to go near my father’s

guinea pigs for fear of upsetting them

as I crashed a decaying