On a grassy knoll.
In La Jolla.
It probably wasn't a knoll, but that sounds good, doesn't it?
You must read it very rhythmically, outloud.
For that is how it was composed.
BUT FIRST, LOOK AT MY CAT.
crash into the grass
skin your skin on the skin
of mother earth
crash into the grass, crash on the grass
let the women with their
blue hair
wheelchairs
wooly blankets
brittle fingers
let them stare
let them stare at us sleep, sleep,
let them sleep
then them stare at
the grass, at the sleepers,
at the sleeping people and papers
while we slumber
awakened by the
wild whomping wumpus
of a wheezing
weed whacker
I shift down against my comfortable companion,
comforted by this warm human
electric blanket
my circuits are peaceful
