He lost a pebble and the light
chinked in, his mind a spiritual logjam.
In pointy toe running shoes
and khaki shorts, neat hair, golf shirt and Velcro
obscuring
matter was not his goal, he sought to clarify
his senses. Insubstantial goof, he roared no
game well.
Having no ambition he was forthright, wrong,
and played no roles with candor. His low stature
sprouted humility horns, faintly visible
above
his ears
like a luna moth,
goo green complexion,
envious to be unmoved,
mating just to die.
