i was a boy once, on a few acre farm in eastern oregon. with a horse, some pigs, chickens, cattle and some shit for stepping in. just off the front porch.

moving pipe. river fed.

oil the bailer, the rake, and watch the hay dry. turn it, don't let it mildew or mold.

i wanted to play basketball. a fool. i was. my grandfather fed me

the cow hung. the sow hung, head shot, gutted and blooded.

on my basketball court. "how high is it hung?"

i ran down the gravel road to home and thumbed the alphabet in the encyclopedia.

10ft.

ran back to grampa.

rock floors and barn doors