sand monster

ground away glass, a little
danger, a little bit, noted and hidden
safely tucked. I bought the wrong
kind of bag, a weak kind of bag.

Some one punched me, and I with a weak bag in my hands
held up like a shield, cowed by a breeze

shards of rocks past, secret fungal city
a little bit, a little danger, noted, hidden
away I went, and back, unaccomplished as ever

My nose hurts because I think someone punched me
ground away, a little, glass just a little
I think someone threw a glass of juice at me
not even liquor not even anything
but just juice, it hit me, i think, the glass

ground up away, a little glass
my nose, the wrong kind of bag
I want a window, to welcome, to see