New Year’s Day and
I am treed picking avocados
thoughts expanding beyond
caring foliage concealing
the fruit I seek
is this really you, a voice asks,
more from morbid curiosity than
intent I guess, but I am lost
for an answer; can I get back
to you, I say
only if you see better reason
for hanging there precariously
scaring the shit out of your
absent family it says, and the
least of all, me...
© 1 January 2010, I. D. Carswell
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