bath an’ bed…

used to lay in cut grass when i was a kid… smell…a freshness to it…soft…made an outline of my body…some kinda’ fetal position…lay there like a baby in the evenin’ till mom called me in for a bath an’ bed… that grass was green…just as green as a Crayola…green as paint put-on with brushes by Mexicans in white clothes with colors splattered all over ’em…

an’ it would start to get wet when the sun was goin’ down…not as dewy as in the morn when dogs were barkin’ off in the distance and cars were startin’-up to take folks to work…factories…grocery stores…offices…but it was wet…it’d be wet when people drove -off an’ wet when people parked in their gravel driveways at night…car doors closin’ …screen doors openin’…you could hear chimes in the breeze…

didn’t wanna’ leave that grass…it was safe…a cocoon of some type…my mind would wander to far off places…dreamin’ of takin’ off on some exotic adventure….some cave with diamonds flashin’ all over….some enchanted forrest with a lushness ’bout it an’ a sun that would never stop shinin’…never get dark….

never bein’ called in for a bath an’ bed…

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