Every footstep was followed by a nerve wracking CRUNCH, as they walked through the forest disturbing the blanket of leaves that covered the ground. The afternoon was colder than usual for it being late February. A steady chill in the air pierced their skin like a warning to turn around.

Hansel slowed down, “Nobody goin’ to hurt you, if I’m around! If anyone tries huntin’ us out here, my Pa will banish all, up to Gallow Hills”, he said.

Greta snubbed her nose at him, shaking her head. Hansel was an adventurous boy, no stranger to a whoopin’ from his Pa. Although Greta was more cautious, she allowed him to talk her into a lot. That’s exactly what she loved to hate about him, often worried that his lack of fear may be the death of him one day. Seldomly, he listened to the rules that were put in place.

As Hansel and Greta continued their journey into the forest in search of skull rock, the bare trees swayed back and forth in the wind, eerily seeming nervous. The tale of skull rock intrigued Hansel, but Greta was spooked because of it. Skull rock is the meeting grounds for the evil witches that hid in the forests. According to the Puritans, the witches perform their rituals to cast spells on the Plymouth Colony, at Skull rock. It was told to generations, as a warning to stay vigilant.

Greta stomped her foot on the forest bed, “Hansel I need not go forward! My Pa bid us any Puritans found at Skull rock will be witchin’ prey! Look what happened to Mrs. Grace Noble-Adams… both her boys perished in 1651! It were witches that casted spells upon Abram and Able! We need not seek the witches meeting spot!”

Hansel grabbed Greta’s hand, “We walk amongst witches posing to be us, living as a neighbor, the witches in these woods, different they are not,” he reassured her.

They continued on their journey, Greta shaking in her boots. Hansel lead the way and before they knew it, they arrived at skull rock.

Hansel quickly ran over and climbed to the top, “I bestow Skull rock! It’s just as the tale bid us, Greta”, he yelled down.

She looked into the bleak winter sky, noticing it to be hard and gray like the layers of rock that Hansel climbed. She examined the indents that would appear to be the eyes and nose, wondering if it were ever a man turned into rock for disobeying the witches rule. All of a sudden Greta jumped back, gasping! That’s when she noticed Hansel, from her peripheral vision, he quickly landed on a lower level of the rock, holding his hand out. Hesitating for a moment, she reached out as he hoisted her onto the rock. Steading her feet to climb behind Hansel, Greta got a chill that went right to the bone.

Finally at the top of the rock, she said, “The air feels thick like the butter, Mama churns before dinner.”

“I cannot disagree it…”, Hansel was interrupted by the screech of a crow, feathers black as ink.

Greta froze, “Mama bid us the scream of the crow is the warnin’ that danger is a comin’, Hansel.”

In one swipe, he grabbed her hand pulling her down the rock, swift like the wind pulled the leaves off the trees. With every foot that hit the ground, they were startled by every snap they heard, trampling over small branches tucked in, under the leaves. Greta seen the crow coming from the left, gliding through the air, before it landed in front of them. Instantly they noticed, what seemed to a necklace or collar of some sorts around its little neck, hanging above its chest area. Hansel embraced Greta, while the crow cocked its head to the right in observation.

Hansel pulled Greta closer, “when I take my hand from your back, run and get my Pa, RUN… I will run at the crow and distract it. I say I be damned of bein’ witchin’ prey”, he whispered.

Before she knew it, his hand was away from her back and she was running as fast as she could. All of a sudden she heard leaves rustling behind here. She was plagued with terror, not wanting to look back to see what it was. She heard Hansel yelling her name “GRETA! WAIT…No witchin‘ happened! I’ll be fooled it were just a crow. A lousy old crow! I bid to you that nothin’ was goin’ to happen”, Hansel boasted, while kicking piles of leaves into the air.

“On the contrary Hansel, not am I happy even the littlest. Our Mamas and Pas bid us to not put foot into the forest. I am not listenin’ no more to you, Hansel!”, Greta scolded him!

A sense of calm fell over them with the edge of the forest in sight. The crow perched on a branch just before the boundary of Puritan territory.

”Oh Greta and Hansel. Are those the names of the children I see”?, they heard the faint whisper in the wind.

A woman appeared behind them, she was beautiful. Her eyes as green as the ripest apple, ever seen.

Hansel pushed Greta, signaling to follow directions from earlier. She ran out of the forest to get his Pa.

The woman pointed at Hansel with her pointy nails, “Boy why are you here?! Puritans are forbidden from the forest”, she said.

”I can do whatever hell I want Ma’am. No witch scares me. I won’t be witchin’ prey”, Hansel yelled.

The woman’s blonde hair glimmered under the dull sky. It looked as if Rumplestiltskin weaved her hair into gold. Hansel watched her every move, as she walked towards him. She flicked her wrist and the crow black as ink, landed on Hansel’s head.

“Little boy, I have eyes everywhere in my forest. Your kind banished me to this forest when I was your age. My mother was hung at the gallows upon sunrise. Your kind cared not of the children seekin’ refuge in these woods”, she glided her nail his chin.

What the woman and Hansel didn’t know, his Pa and the rest of the men were setting up to catch this woman.

Hansel partly hypnotized, spoke slowly, “Witch you will walk this forest no more! I’ll be bettin’ my life to truth.”

”Hansel you look so much like your Pa with those dark eyes and dark hair. I’ve been watching you for years. Henry should have warned you not to come ’round here. Far ahead, he never thought… much like you. ‘Member watchin’ the hay cart burn brightly or your Mama cry ’cause your brother of 2 weeks did not proceed in this life. oh! I ’member. Finally the boy I get to meet. A Daughter with no mother isn’t a bad as a father no son”, she smiled.

Before the crow could alert them of danger, they heard the sound of a smoothbore musket, soon after a wailing woman fell to the ground. Hansel quickly fell out of his trance, for a second he heard unknown voices yelling his name and the cry of that beautiful woman, following the cries of the frantic crow.

”Hansel my boy! Get away from that monster, born from a witch

herself”, Hansel’s father warned!

Three men followed from behind, while two men came from the left.

The men grabbed the woman violently! At that moment the crow screamed as it tried pecking them in the face. The men flailed their arms around to free themselves from loosing an eye or two.

As Greta’s dad hoisted his musket into the air, he aimed at the crow. the woman cried out, “Sage, Go! Fly away my beauty…find the others and take them to safety.”

The musket let out a roar and the shot just missed the crow.

Screeching, the crow flew around in circles before disappearing. Where it went, nobody knew. They heard the cries of the crow in the sky, as the men drug the woman with gold hair to Gallow Hills.

Greta ran over to Hansel with sad eyes. She embraced him, pleading, “I thought you were witchin‘ prey. Runnin’ I got my Pa, quickest I did not know how fast we could save you.”

”Greta, she knew my Pa! She knew of the hay cart burnin’, Mama’s baby that passed. I never got her name, but I fear for this family… dead or alive, she will live on. That crow has a name.”

In the distance they heard the woman, “Henry I have eyes all over. Perished or not, I will live on. Prudence will allow no mercy for your boy, his boy”.

The cries faded. Hansel and Greta trailed to the very edge of the forest. As they stepped foot out, Greta continued to cry. Hansel heard the faint snap of a branch, slowly turning his head, he saw the crow. What he saw next, he couldn’t explain. The crow landed on a tree branch. Instantly fog appeared, turning into a girl, maybe a few years younger than he. He froze. She had those apple green eyes, but hair the color of the red maple leaves that lined the forest in Autumn. His eyes locked on the necklace that hung on the crow, now draped around this young girls neck. At that moment he knew that the woman was a mother. Witches are real. His stomach turned as quick as he turned his body, dragging Greta out to Puritan territory.

_______Ten years later______

Seasons changed, family perished or moved on as they created families. Babies were born, two beautiful babies were Hansel and Greta’s. In 1680 Hansel Thomas Adams III arrived into this world. Gretel Mary Adams followed in 1681. Known as Irish twins, they both grew into children, encapsulating the best parts of their parents.

Frequently haunting Hansel, he never told a soul what he seen that day, ten years ago. He often wondered and worried if she would seek revenge on his family. He thought about moving when Greta conceived his first child, but inheriting his Pa’s popular haying business, kept him here. That witch with hair of gold, always came to mind when he seen the bundles of hay. Hansel couldn’t stand the hay bails, so he allowed his brother to oversee that job. So Hansel became a wood-cutter and merged the businesses, as one.

Prudence plagued his mind, it’s like her soul placed itself to live on within Hansel’s head, after she perished when hung! He and Greta never spoke of that woman who proclaimed herself as Prudence. Although they always warned Hansel and Gretel of the danger lurking in the forest.

Little did they know Hansel and Gretel snuck to the forest, always pushing themselves to go a little further. Hansel and Greta we’re diligent when it came to keeping eyes on their children, but it‘s impossible to have eyes on them all hours. Adventurous Hansel knew what to say to his cautious sister.

It was thought to be one of the safest times in Salem, 1694. The Puritans hunted and killed all of the witches within the forest and living as their neighbors in the community, so they thought. Never realizing there were hidden homes as the far forest edge, under cliffs that were unreachable to the hunters.

However, Hansel lead Gretel to them, seeking adventure and fun, “Gretel, vacant this little home of white birch, stand hidden on the cliff side. You will be lovin’ what I found. Safe, it is… I entered, searchin’ with Pa’s musket, days ago”, Hansel proclaimed as he helped his sister down the ledge.

Gretel installed with fear trusted her brother even though he was irrational at times.

”Hansel, what if you forget how to lead home”? Gretel questioned.

”I won’t. I left marked rocks on the way. The forest bed is cleared of leaves for Autumn isn’t here yet”, he responded.

Gretel’s eyes lite up, arriving to this cute little home. It reminded her of a doll house that the little girls with wealth, had. She and Hansel ran inside to find a home furnished and clean.

Opening a cabinet, Hansel said, “Look! Sticks of cinnamon, vanilla and molasses and honey jars, Gretel”!

Gretel noticed in the window, a crow with feathers black as ink, perched on the window sill. The curious bird observing, as Hansel walked over to Gretel, handing her a cinnamon stick and jar or honey. He found breads and spices, too.

“This honey is the sweetest I ever tried. Mama always bid us to eat the molasses covered bread, ever so slowly. Takin’ the taste in, ’member Gret”?

Gretel didn’t answer him. Instead, she said, “Hansel look at this peculiar crow... it has a necklace on its neck.

”I’ll be damned... It does“, Hansel replied, astonished.

Gretel turned her head slightly, reaching out for a stick of vanilla to spread on a piece of bread that Hansel was handing her. It was a second, passed and the bird was gone when she looked back at the window. Within a moment they heard the clank of what sounded like metal latching from the outside.

Hansel ran to the door and it was locked. As he reached every window in panic, nothing budged.

Pure terror washed over their faces, tears filled Gretel’s eyes like they were now two blue buckets, overflowing. Hansel grabbed his sister and pulled her into his chest. She felt his heart pounding, as hard as Pa’s saw hitting the logs.

A fog engulfed them. There stood a beautiful woman with hair the color of red Autumn leaves and eyes like two green emeralds.

”Hello sweet children! My you are lookin’ so much of Hansel and Greta. I’ve been waitin’ for you to stumble upon my home... take a seat, you will be here awhile long. I do believe I have much owin’ to my Mama. A Daughter without no Mama isnt nearly as bad as a Pa without no son or a Mama without no daughter. Gone is the best of their worlds”, Sage said.

Sage flicked her wrist and the sun wasn't shining in the windows anymore, they were covered instantly. She smiled at the children as they were pleading for their lives. She pranced towards them, another quick flick and Hansel and Gretel were silenced as they fell to the floor.

”Oh sweet children, know not what I plan to do, so sleep tight until revenge is hung over the heads of your Pa and Ma”, she whispered to the sleeping children as she guided their sleeping bodies through the air, lowering them on the bed.

She looked to the little cabin roof with her arms opened wide, “Mama I will get you back. Just rest now awhile to long in Hansel’s head. Oh sweet revenge, I’ll trade a soul for a soul, so you are back within this realm of land.”

-Author Amanda Burke Jaworski

He clicked off his flashlight and asked, quite pointedly, “son, you on drugs?”

Several officers stood like statues around the dramatic scene at daybreak.

“Oh sir, absolutely, 100% on drugs sir yes,” I admitted.

Ok so when you’re caught move onto plan B.

Also, at least try to have one great plan.

Now of course if you’re stupid or impulsive or whatever else stops people from making a great plan then sure, yeah, a good plan will do, whatever, but ONLY in a pinch.

And then of course two viable backup plans. Not fer nothin but this might be a good time to look up the word viable. Just saying.

Anyways…

The EMT looked at me as if I was a child and asked, “what are you under the influence of right this moment?”

Before I could answer an officer, let’s call him Officer Douchebag, perhaps a fresh cadet, asked if any of the drugs were left and said, “Ima be searching the car, anything left over we should know about? You seem to be in the mood to tell the truth, or you’re too stoned and stupid to lie.”

“No massa sir massa the drugs are all gone sir please sir cept my apologies for robbing you of a dramatic daybreak drug bust at a heavily trafficked gas station.”

I felt triumphant.

Officer Douchebag was displeased. He made a displeased face.

The homeless man eating the Austin Chronicle cackled and gave me a thumbs up.

Ego boast.

“Rob us?” The officer struck an oddly conciliatory tone and said, “I’d say we have an entertaining scene already, wouldn’t you? Ok the breakdown: we have a 26-year-old who drives a 1997 intrepid and had a hallucination in a 7/11 about a dancing chocolate doughnut and then stripped down to his boxers for the good of the nation. That about sum it up? Oh, wait it doesn’t! First you went into the restroom to put on your cape which,” Douchebag pretended to be looking around and the others mimicked him like apes, “which fer the life of us we cannot find.”

“Stars and stripes sir.” I saluted.

“I’m sorry?” Officer Douchebag shocked I held my notch.

No notch droppage.

“My boxers. Stars and stripes. America baby!

*******

Almost there. Need more.

No you don’t!

Pause!

Time out!

Freeze!

Whatever you want to call it just hold the phone and let’s take a beat here and put some shit into context.

My name is Adrian Mohammed Khdeir-Alvarez. It’s a lot I know.

My parents broke all kinds of oppressive ‘traditions,’ or whatever. At least that’s what my mom says. They had tons of sex out of wedlock for starters. She’s a Latina with swag and suffers no bull shit and is Catholic. Very Catholic. And my dad…isn’t.

Look over my shoulder. See it?! Yeah, that’s me sitting in my boxer shorts on the curb outside the 7/11 on Oltorf and 35.

I worked up the nerve to say some words out loud and I’ll concede it wasn’t a cerebral moment but with everything frozen he was the only person to ask.

“Say while they’re all standing still can I bum a smoke?” I asked, wondering who he was.

“Sure, kid long as it gets us talkin, I mean it’s your show” the detective-looking man said. He had an old school mentality with a Columbo-style look.

“So what’s yer name?” I asked.

“Jasper Hollinsworth.”

“I’m-“he cut me off.

“Please don’t it’s an earful. No offense it’s just early and frankly yer weird and I’ve got a hangover like you wouldn’t believe,” he lit a cigarette and rubbed his temples.

“Bad huh?”

“Spewing from both holes my Mexican Mohammed…both holes indeed.”

“Jesus! you just shared all that, the entire world is frozen around us in suspended animation and my name is too weird fer you? Ima be honest its gunna be hard to know where the boundaries are for you sir.”

“Eh well you do a job for 30 years and uh,” he exhaled, “loses some of its bang. Besides you say boundaries like this is gunna take long. It won’t. It can’t.”

Jasper lit another cigarette and adjusted his fedora.

“So Mr. Hollinsworth-“

“Jasper please call me Jasper.”

“Ok Jasper, are you a detective? A lawyer? A cop? Like a specialist?”

“Yes.”

“Yes to which thing?”

Columbo lookalike assessed the situation and then looked at me with a stern expression like he was a disappointed teacher, mentor, or even worse, my dad.

“Let’s get down to the brass tacks kid we only have 2,000 words to work with and you look like yer,” Jasper looked at me head to toe and grunted a grunt of disgust, “well yer a fuckin mess. You smell. Also, I don’t like you.”

“Why even add that?”

Columbo-lookalike shrugged.

“Look you called a time out to reality to work all this out and add context, whatever the hell that means, so here we are.”

Columbo lookalike felt for me.

“Ok look, so you said you took drugs. Are you an addict? What’d you take? When did this all start? Do you tango with day old doughnuts routinely?”

“No. I mean yes. To the drugs. Whatchu mean about doughnuts?”

“Forget it we’ll circle back,” he said, writing in a tiny notebook.

“Am I going to jail?”

“Settle down would you please I mean look this isn’t the crime of the century you’re just a lowlife loser.”

“Wow. Just wow.”

“Wow, rich lexicon,” he mocked.

“Why are you even here?”

“A much better question is why are you? In your, umm, condition?”

I had to be dead. To be sure I decided to walk into traffic. Only nothing was moving. I walked over to a hotshot looking business dude frozen at his pump. He was playing pocket pool when I called time out. So, there he was pumping gas while foundling his dick and balls. All while wearing a $3,000 suit. Think of all the hands he’ll shake later!

“Don’t even think about it!” Jasper ordered.

“What?” I asked.

“Anything inappropriate or exploitative. Goosing that lady’s ass, keying rich dude’s tesla, all of it. Tell me what you remember. We’re already halfway out of time.”

I could swear I saw my friend Rajai in the crowd.

“I’m a writer who doesn’t write,” I blurted out. Embarrassed.

“Writer’s block?”

“Yeah. I think.” I was distracted.

“You try prompts? Search the world wide web?”

“Yes. Yes, I did those things. But there’s a contest and I have to show them all something.”

“You took a gap year, didn’t you?” Jasper asked out of the blue.

“A few,” I said, confused, sweating, “does that matter?”

“Naw it’s just a bad idea my daughter did the same thing.”

“And?”

“She ended up workin a pole down at Titties in the City.”

“Jesus sir I’m sorry,” I said while picturing my last lap dance there. Was it his daughter?

“For what it’s worth I hear it’s like, I mean it’s better than others. Not like I know firsthand.” I said, and Jasper looked at me with disgust.

“Yeah right whatever my kid worked a pole but I’ll tell you what she never half assed anything,” Jasper caught the words as they were spoken and I pulled a muscle trying not to laugh, “anyways she got ideas for stories and worked the lunch crowd.”

“So she graduate or like what’s the story,” I asked, seriously wanting to know, “did she, I mean like is she writing stories? Doing her thing?”

Jasper threw his cigarette on the ground and said, “she hanged herself with a guy’s tie. Just another John. So, there’s only a few grains of sand in the hourglass. We can have tit talk another day.”

I was disgusted with myself. Just the thought.

“I started slow with some shrooms. My buddy Scuba Steve said to micro dose to help me think,” I confessed.

“Scuba Steve huh?”

“Yeah scuba.”

“That’s fuckin stupid and unoriginal.”

“Ok,” I was getting pissed.

“Look there’s no uniform answer. There’s some basics, you know they call them axioms or precepts. I forget which. Perhaps both. My point is Scuba Steve? Some characters should be place holders, but the others have to be regular-ish. Take risks, put you characters in tenuous and precarious situations. I mean that happens in life, no?” Columbo lookalike laughed and coughed a phlegmy cough.

But he wasn’t completely wrong. Right?

“Are you a teacher?” I asked him. I was growing anxious with only a few hundred words left.

“No and you’re wasting more time so continue.”

I bummed another cigarette.

“Ok so I did some of the stuff the…ah the,” I drew a blank. Complete darkness.

“Shrooms,” Jasper helped.

“Thank you yeah those and tried to dream about my story. It’s like it’s in there but I can’t channel it to paper,” Jasper was reading a half-eaten copy of the Chronicle.

“Are you even listening?” I asked, irritated.

“I absolutely am!”

“Really cause it looks like yer reading Jake’s breakfast.”

“Jake huh?”

“Yeah and yer an ass. Give it back. It’s not yours and its wasting time like you love to point out so often.”

“You could tell me more about this Jake I bet. I mean not his real name of course but of course…”

We shared an awkward laugh that was akin to when someone writes ‘lol’ in an awkward text.

A placeholder.

“How’d you know? I mean fer all you know I come here daily and know him.”

“If you do who cares? Ok so shrooms and no masterpiece in 2000 words or less. What next?”

“Well the deadline is tonight at midnight,” I said wondering how long time would stay still.

“So what? Sample platter?”

“I mean basically. I did some meth and then things were sailing right along. I was writing. Then, right when I’m in the zone, full effect, I get this sensation. Like I felt like I was infested with bugs in my skin so I took a few Xanax to even things out.”

“Whoa kid, that’s overkill. Literally. No more drugs.”

“I know…so is that it? I’m dead?”

“I didn’t say that stop being a crybaby I just meant that’s quite the smorgasbord.”

“Yeah, not exactly wine tasting I know.”

“You’re a real piece of work you know that?” Columbo-lookalike got within an inch of my face and looked very distressed. “Wine tasting? Jesus.”

“I’m sorry. All I want is to figure one thing out. Do one thing right,” I said, growing desperate.

The stillness of the city was mesmerizing.

“Don’t apologize its ok. But we have about 200 words.”

“Ok we got this.” I said, feeling motivated.

“I don’t like you.”

“Can you stop saying that?”

“Stop wasting your own time and maybe.”

I wanted to choke this man, but he was all I had. He arrived out of nowhere and looked unassuming enough to be a secret genius. Maybe the insults were part of the process?

“That’s twice now,” I mumbled.

“What?”

“Twice I’ve seen my buddy Rajai in this crowd.”

“Probably related. So what was so important to write that you had to take so many drugs?”

“I tried everything, lots of great writers were drug addled wild cards and they wrote beautiful things. Others are so talented it just sorta flows.”

“Naw c’mon that’s not true. It’s a grueling process I’m told. Comparisons can help and hurt so walk that tightrope as carefully. Or just avoid it and never take a chance. That’s what most people do anyway.”

“I just feel like I’m against the clock. Beating down my thoughts. Ruining them. Beating 2000.”

“For you it’s good practice. Less is sometimes more. With limits you gotta make sure every word has value and packs a punch. You need practice, not drugs. I gotta go!”

“Adrian.” Many voices. Blurry faces.

Rajai stood over me, “Adrian, he’s up, holy fuck you were out. Cancel 9-11 we’re ok.”

The only word that I can utter,

with the smallest strength that I can muster,

is a simple one word prayer,

A pool that’s deep but just one layer:

“Help”

And you know what it means,

You know my heart and all it’s seen,

You’ve been with me in darker places,

And you’ve shown yourself in strangers’ faces.

I won’t give up on faith in you,

So that includes my marriage, too.

What you have joined let none undo!

Protect us in the fire, too.

Bring us safely walking through,

Trusting with our eyes on you.

This prayers done much to settle my heart,

I’ve come such a long way from the start,

my pool doesn’t seem quite so deep,

And the mountain I’m climbing, not as steep.

So I guess my final prayer now,

before I stop this ranting on,

Is for a restful sleep somehow,

And hope to carry me to dawn.

The people at your work ain’t that fucking great

They ask for a slice and you give them the cake

Forgetting that while you work hard for your home

You are also leaving her heart to grow cold all alone

Every day every night as less words are exchanged

Every time that we fight I swear my feelings change

I can’t say it’s my fault it’s the way I was built

Unstable to crumble and fumble then wilt

I know by tomorrow my feelings will change

It’s just something I live with, some call it deranged

Yesterday I sat outside in a different chair

A whole new view opened up

How the wind moves

The back view of neighborhood houses above their fences

A fresh patch of blue sky with clouds

A new perspective changed how I felt

I accomplished more difficult tasks than I had in last couple of months

Jeff Bezos, the founder of Amazon, has a net worth of 138.2 billion US dollars.

If you gave a newborn baby a million dollars every single day for the rest of its life, it would still be more than 111 billion dollars short of Jeff Bezos, since the average human lives to 72. But even if that baby broke the record age for the oldest person and lived to 122 years and 165 days (breaking Jeanne Calment's record by a day...), it would have a little more than 44 billion dollars, nearly 100 BILLION dollars short of Jeff Bezos.

I don't know why this shocked me so much.

Maybe because there are 2,208 billionaires in the world, their money combining to about 9.1 trillion dollars, and yet...

more than three billion people (almost half the world's population) are in poverty

821 million people suffer from chronic hunger

one person commits suicide every 40 seconds

1.6 billion people lack adequate housing

22,000 kids die every day because of poverty

1.2 million children drop out of high school in the United States alone each year

An estimated 600,000 to 800,000 men, women, and children are trafficked each year

80% of the world population lives on less than ten dollars a day

2 million children die each year because of preventable diseases they can't afford to cure

They say that money can't solve your problems.

But for these people and so many more,

it could go a long way.

9.1 trillion dollars

maybe it can't solve every issue in the universe

but it could do a lot more than sitting and waiting for someone else to step up.

And yes, many of these billionaires are helping their communities

but how many aren't?

How many of us that are able to give a little

choose not to?

How many of us are waiting for someone to make the first step

before we do?

so we don't have to?

To the people that can:

DO IT.

Donating some money to charity

Giving clothes to those in need

Maybe it will only help one person

but that's one more person than before

one more person who will sleep better at night

one more person who will live to see tomorrow

one

more

person

That's all anyone can ask.

Skin starts peeling at the treeline.

Sloughing off in great sheets

When the limbs overlap in lattices;

Keeping off the atmosphere.

You’ll never find a snakeskin in the garden,

But the forest is another matter entirely.

Soon, its rough flesh will begin to grate

And you’ll glow redly

And learn to wind between the bent-together bodies

Then, to the quick--

And when there is pulp

Clinging to the tree trunks,

You’ll find there is nothing in your pockets

But loose soil

And those tricky

Molten-metal

Squirming things

That you thought you’d thrown away

the measure of my cup

cannot hold,

though in the negative

I see its ample

curve and mold,

like the world

pressed against

the bottom of

the universe,

and the itch

in my palm

to assess

my lifeline

is overwhelming

from time to time

I can only

stir,

a word

a line

in the ocean

of my emotion

that overflows

in this body

that is

never

really

mine

2020 APR 07

...in a glass

the sifting

time

can be seen

to pass

and if

I will

(to turn)

perhaps

still

the aftertaste

might last

with

saltiness

upon the

grim

realization

contained

therein...

a grimace

of ambivalance

that balances

on the rocks

till it tips...

and cracks

into

one

final

smile...

and stops.