A great many snakeskins

As the wind blows, and as the cars swoosh

To and from work.

They float and curl,

Weaving and winding

Like a sideways snake,

Etching hieroglyphics

Onto scorching desert sand.

These silky husks,

Scattered about the

Silent sidewalks.


These reticulated relegations now simply  function as every day litter.

(While still maintaining their serpentine qualities.)


They don’t lash out at the unguarded ankles of

Delirious passerby ‘s

Or battle a courageous mongoose.

Instead they lay like idle landmines,

Or a still garden-hose.

The condoms,

The bubble wrap,

And the blue tarps,

The blue snakes.

These great many snakeskins.

These venomous monuments,

Have become more abundant,

Than the skeletons of the scientists

That  bravely ventured to the



Of the countless

Intergalactic intersections,

To orchestrate research on

These earthly abominations.

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