bicycles for the trees

escape is a state of being.
escape the telephone. escape the holiday
escape the bone structure. escape 
your father's tongue. escape
the teeth of the bear who lurks
by the telephone poll desert.
i tell the tree, "you should 
run way with me." a forest on foot.
they say, "roots roots roots."
always an excuse for not 
flowering in the deep knots 
of the wild land. of course i do
the same thing. i say, "not today"
over & over until my body is nothing
but a windchime. the trees have dreams
of living inside an ice cream parlor
& having an adolscense. i have dreams of
swallowing so much dirt i do not
remember being a piece of chewing gum
in the mouth of a wingless system.
everything here is meant to make us
into escapees. exit signs 
line either side of my days. a boat
with a beating heart i could ride
into the sea monster lands at the edges
of the map. i mean screw it 
maybe i'm a flat earther now. maybe
i need to find a fairy ring 
& pull it apart. incur the appropriate 
wrath of the magical beasts.
i shake the sapling at the edge 
of the creek i say, "there is still time
for you!" the tree stands up & gets on
her bike & rides away towards 
the supermarket. she is going to buy
as much ice cream as she can eat.
i kneel down to touch 
the warm earth where she was. 

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