never could wrap my head around
tree hugging, those activist glory days
so dope-fueled with ideals; the Long-hairs
and their Chickie-LaLa's singing songs of whales,
saving snail darters, and sleeping under the trees.
my grandmother warned me about mite bites,
those birdie bed bugs that parasitize man and fowl:
"throw that damn nest away, boy, before you
get eaten alive!"
Poem © 2012 R. Burnett Baker
Photo by Robert ParkeHarrison, shared by Tess Kincaid