Narrative Poem: My Feet Became Impaled On Blades Of Grass.

 

My feet became impaled on blades of grass.

And I was stuck fast in the backyard, 

hidden by a row of cedars that ran 

parallel with the fence.

It had been a beautiful summer

up until then.

I went everywhere barefoot.

The bushes ran with sap you could

lick up like honey.

Hot dogs were so cheap they

were given away to strangers at 

bus stops. With packets

of ketchup and mustard.

 The clouds danced

and

not a single baby 

ever got diaper rash. 

I was a little upset at first that 

no one ever came looking 

for me.

Not my wife or my kids.

Not the police. Not even

my Amway distributor.

But finally I just figured

that I had never been real

in the first place.

I was someone's dream.

The seasons passed. 

My feet turned to roots.

My skin to bark.

Birds nested on the top of my head.

Squirrels pushed walnuts into my ears.

And I was content.

 

Then the grass dissolved around 

my feet.

I fell to the earth with a sob.

The birds left me. Their eggs

smashed to yellow pieces.

I walked back into the house.

How many years had passed?

"Did you find that sprinkler connection?'

Amy asked as she sliced a tomato.

 "How long have I been gone?" I asked.

"Ten minutes. Maybe less" she replied.

"I lived a whole different life while I

was outside just now" I told her. "I

have had visions and dreams."

Then the children came running into

my arms.

And I forgot my dreams for 

a sweeter more solid reality.