Space X and Thoughts On the Brush
A six-foot long rattlesnake.
“He got too close to the back steps, and I used the shotgun on it,” the home owner way out in the brush, river to the south, bay and channel to the north, says.
“But I feel sorry. It got disturbed when someone bulldozed for a house. It was the snake’s home. It must have gotten confused.
“Walk over to the tree. That’s where I hung it up.”
I do, and it has been tied to a branch; it dangles – limbs above, ground below
The rattlesnake moves near the narrow road to the beach.
I step and look at it.
It returns to the brush.
A fisherman with Missouri plates slows down when he sees me.
I tell him to stop and look at the snake.
A friend motorcycles to the beach.
A bobcat runs out of the brush, hits his front tire and bounces into the brush on the other side of the road.
The friend keeps riding to the beach.
Sea birds, always.
Sunrises over the gulf,
Sunsets over the dunes, and into land.
Space rides for the rich,
Supplies for space stations ….
So crawl off, slither off, snakes.
Fly off birds.
Eugene “Gene” Novogrodsky, mid May 2013