Bourgeois life is an iron cage
Trying to raise grass where a forest should grow
Hence raking up autumn near the solstice
Of tulip pine and the many species of oak
Accompanied by my nemesis the phoebe
Or no some gray thing with yellow belly
Foraging where the implement has scraped
When I myself turn up a specimen
I thought at first you were a night crawler
With wriggling and thrash
But when you formed a figure 8
Like ouroboros twisted to infinity
I recognized you as fully yourself
And I grasped you with my White Mules
And imprisoned you in jelly jar
Like I’m authorized to do that
But your sentence is not a long one
For I will display you to the younguns
Or rather display my rectitude
When I return you to the wild
My pal my emblem