I forced him outside. First real spring day! "What'll I do?" he asked.
"I don't know. Play, dance," I said, shoving him out the door. "Run. Write a poem. I don't care-- just go outside."

This is a poem 'bout nature
Its main exports are fruitbats and glaciers
For me it has no allure
Guess I'm just immature
Still don't see what's so great about Nature.


  1. I knew you'd brighten things up. You're like me. You can't stay down long.


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