When I was a kid

I played in the sand

at the side of the road

with ants I thought

wouldn’t mind being

relocated to an empty

Tic Tac container.

I became a sort of ant

myself, watching the

tunnels slowly appear

behind this peppermint

scented, clear, plastic

home most throw out.

I dug down into thoughts

about belonging and

being part of a family,

and the power of single-

minded purpose in

support of the communal

pinched at my skin

like a well-suited job

description, or a teasing

grandmother who knows

how to draw an emotion

from your cheek.

Maybe that’s why

when I write the ground

opens beneath me,

and I often fall

and land in a deeper

and much cooler

world than where I began,

a cavern of star-like possibility

all around me through

which to chew and make

a bigger picture with.