by Josh Olsen
I offered to weed – an excuse to look for snakes. Always looking for snakes. The pet I wanted but never got.
The Bassett hound caught heart worm, hamsters and fish died – I wanted something I could feed those other animals to.
Something that could turn on me without warning – bite or strangulate without conscience.
At five, I experienced my first recurring nightmare – falling from an examining table, cracking my head on the linoleum, a thin black snake slid out from the open wound.
Ever since, I’ve been trying to put it back in there.
I tired of pulling dandelions and thistles and my mind began to wander. I remembered things forgotten …
my step-cousin squeezing toothpaste into his sister’s vagina, my mother screaming as she caught him, about a week later, my first wet dream …
I accidentally grabbed the tail of a bull-snake and squealed – she was so fucking beautiful!