Acorns

The oaks have dropped more acorns this year than anyone can remember. It’s like walking on ball bearings, except sometimes they pop: a cap comes off & one blank face gains a split. It must be lonely having the only mouth. Do you take a breath? Do you invent eating? Do you look for another broken soul & improvise some kind of minimal kiss? But wait a while: soon everyone will awake & turn & stick a yellow tongue into the earth.