Full of Something

I am full of something.

A water balloon filled to burst.

Stretched to the limit.

Tight with pressure.

Smooth.

Heavy.

Hard to hold onto.

Translucent.

There ain't much wiggle room,

but maybe a little jiggle.

No breathing

or flailing.

No shifting in place.

The grass is bright and

whispers underneath me.

I lay on my back and try

not to think of all the bugs

on the blades beside

or the snakes that could be

hidden in the brush nearby.

If I'm consumed by clouds

up above

I cannot cry.

If I'm not careful,

a sharp pebble could

do me in.

I would burst and

let what fills me

into the soil sink.

My shell shredded.

Colorful bits of latex

littering the lawn and

maybe even the parking lot

beyond.