for the garter snake

i would bring him pennies in case he'd like
to buy a bicycle. i don't know
what snakes crave. maybe a perfect
halo of sun. enough to take the blood
into thunder. i used to meet him at the edge
of the yard where the neighbor's trees
talked to themselves. the snake would 
knit words into the ground.
"please" over & over. i always wondered
if someone had taught him the word
or if it had come to him naturally. 
sometimes our mouths are cellar doors.
take me into the mess. i brought him
a can of soda to share with me.
then, i brought him a picture of 
my grandfather & asked the snake
if he thought we looked related.
the snake said, "more." the gaps 
in our language were like water over rocks.
sometimes i would ask him,
"do you think i could cut it as a snake?"
that would always make him 
run away. i like to think he was shy
but truly i think he knew i was just searching
for any kind of escape. into a new species.
into a new horror. this is my life pattern.
running through rings of fire.
one day the snake did not return.
i had brought him a flute in case
he liked music. i ran my fingers
through the grass. found nothing but
a soda tab from the drink i'd tried to share.
do you know what it's like
to crave a collapsed distance? 
i want to hear him confess everything
he's ever wanted to confess. 
then, i want him to listen to me.
i don't know if we'd have to go
one word at a time. i can bend my body
into a "please" too. i already have so many times.