Grass In My Pocket

Don’t you remember? That one time When we were young and adventurous We settled on shared breath between Pine trees and our neighbors oak Tugging on leaves like they were All we could afford to clasp My mom saw us Hitting each other with sticks In the chilled South Dakota summer Like a pair of yokels In on a joke no one understood She looked at us firm Soft white collar hands on her hips Thin from stress She told me plants feel pain I was hurting them I stared at my bare toes Wedged in supple grass And I wondered if you Also lacked guilt.