Do you remember when the turtles crawled up the ceiling , hanging upside down,
Milky Way gleaming on their shells?
Our own giant stars, they were.
And that one time when you placed a drop of rain on my osmotic throat,
You thought it'd quench my perennial thirst.
All it did was make my insides drier.
When, once, lilies grew in the tumultuous winds
Their petals spinning in spirals.
We were sucked into its vortex, floating in the low pressured center.
Or the time when the clouds caressed my body and you hated them for it?
When we walked carelessly on crunchy snails on the forest path
And the pitter-patter of the rain became an ominous growl.
Was it the snails getting back at us? Or the Gods?
I don't feel gods under my feet,
I feel only snail squash, and it makes me jump.
I believe in snails,
Soft and hard
Linear and curvy
Fallible, squashable.
Who can believe in gods?
Infallible, unsquashable.
So unreal, so unlike us!
