round & round the imbiss
i go scurrying hither or
screaming thither wound
on sugars & holiday gases
with my turtle backpack &
my plucky green hat they
cannot catch me! cannot
know my moves the yodels
that maintain me i delight
in my terror & underneath
this shirt flabby muscles
quiver (my brain goes tick-
tock all through the high
german summer! some speak
of the sewers wherein i was
once abandoned only to be
found – i myself prefer to
blast that memory into one
big pile of rubble! or else
a turtle dance w/ wiggles!
my shell morphs into scales
at the slightest threat –
my arms & legs become fists
& boots to break the glass!
(small wonder i am kept on
a kiddy leash – but their
time will come when i have
grown & so-called parents
will feel all my fury as i
toddle off (back to the sea
