Current

liquid smooth oily green current runs
out of the mouth of the hollow rusty metal log
onto the valley of smooth rock that spaces out to eternity

Ants

i remember when I was the Godzilla of the anthill. I was the top story in the antivlle Gazette " Sadistic Six-year-old strikes again; Total killed: too many to count! ". Ahh the joy, the thrill each time i hammered my chubby foot into the dirt, ending the lives of dozens a mr., mrs., little johnny, and little suzy of the Ant Nation. I was in complete control, such power in the hands of a prebuscent boy. A boy who had very little or no control over anything in his own world, this grown up world. The power was tangible, the demonizing of these poor microscopic creatures was bliss! Little did I realize that I was very much like an ant myself; nothing more or less significant than these tiny 4-legged-critters i set out to exterminate everyday in my backyard all my childhood years. I did not realize that there is a Godzilla looking down on me...and I wonder now if he is wishing to stamp me out with his foot?