Mud, muddy slush, slushy lawn. In the inbetween of the winter and spring and the lawn's long gone. People walking, lotsa people walking over the life in the mud on the sidewalk under my crawl. Mud. Bubbles pop and burst breath into the air. Where's the inbetween if everyone's a me? That there tree grew outta me. People talking, lotsa people talking. I'm hurt, you're hurt, my dad's hurt, and haven't you learned everyone's hurt? Sure we're all smiles seeing reptiles. Birds in bars, we measure up each species in our heads barely aware that we're so scared we measure up each species in our heads. I can step on that lil' [bad word] s jaw, I can snap him in half like a wishbone. And I think to myself, like I'm always thinking, I want nothing and two more of this [bad word]  Find my place in the apehouse. See myself in their eyes. My fingers on their feet. My possessive love somewhere in their embrace. My freedom's limitations in their swinging and hollering. I'm singing. I'm hollering. I'm singing. I'm hollering. I'm always bothering.