Snickers

Raining.

Pit. Pat. Pit. Pat.

My shoes squeak.

I enter store.

Fluorescent lights hurt my eyes.

I grab a Snickers' bar.

Cashier takes my money.

I exit.

Still raining.

I squeak down the road.

Asphalt becomes mud.

City becomes forest.

I weave in and out of trees

Until I come to a clearing.

There is a bench.

Plain and solid.

Not very large.

Five feet across.

I see the lake.

Little waves.

Raindrops plunk.

I see the sand.

Dry as a bone.

The trees are a blanket.

I sit.

I eat.

I think.

I hear.

I live.

I breathe.

Simple.