Controlled Insanity

        — All along, all I’ve got is the beauty of certainty
that I’m a genius, said Sunny Jim.

        Follow the river down, past scrub nests and rocky
outlaws; find him hauling on a green leaping tusk.
        — Come on man, give us a hand!
        What comes up is a dirty great white protuberance.
        — That’s a turnip thing, man!
        And so what, but
        — Help me get it to the river!

        We wash the dirt off the thing.
        — You can have some if you want!
        It’s hard and hard, but welcome to empty stomachs.

        — What are you gonna do, after all this stuff?
        I’m not sure what he means, so
        — What? I think I’ll get a job in a bank . . .
        — Straight up?
        — Yeah, this has always been a running for death,
I don’t think!

        It is clear this green stuff won’t end, nor will we,
but we’ll help see it through. No bank jobs. Concern
for feeding faces though, if poss.