Sticky

Ace was running

in the backyard
like he’d heard something only dogs hear but he wasn’t barking only lapping
like a racing greyhound dog
but Ace wasn’t greyhound he was American bull
like they say is pitbull but isn’t

Breeze was going everywhere
but the ground was soft and I could bounce on it like a kid in a jumping castle
but if I stepped then

Ace’s running would be the other kid in there whose jumps raise me up
tripping me
and I fall

on my face
on the smelly plastic floor

Wind was riddling the world with rain

droplets and I don’t remember
what day it was
or if I was still in my uniform or why I was in the backyard
except maybe

to cut my lawn but you should always pick up sticks and your dog’s shit before you cut
to protect yourself from sticks
and your pant legs from shit

and then I saw this stick

sticking straight up from the ground thinner than a finger and shaped
like a letter Y
Standing

four feet high

I was wondering
who shoved that stick into the ground

and doubting Ace could do it but maybe
he was running ‘cause of pride he had accomplished something humans do but I

couldn’t figure
how that stick could stand so straight not bent or broke
or who would do that
or why they would want to

Stick was disturbing me proving how easily
someone could trespass here and I was

vuln’rable to a creep

who could sneak into my yard
and I already sold
the three fifty-seven so I didn’t shoot me in the head since
that was
a real
and not
an attempt

I was hating that stick that stood defiant from the ground seeing it as impure so I
pulled it out and threw it down
but it didn’t go because the grass was tall

and long

and held it from the ground

now I am glad
there weren’t more of them but I wish
I’d broken it in half