the color of blood

for a more perfect solution
don't jump into the water!
but it's up to you, to
run don't walk on freshly mowed grass
it's so much lower than high class
chasing the hardest walnut seed
or watching the grey squirrel treed
and edged with zigzag sunshine rays
close to low rising river hills
swimming momentarily for cheap thrills
chasing flotsam from the beach
slowly drifting out of reach
darkening like a shadowed flower face
the current pulling as though in a race
sporting decomposition with hard arms
devoid of any imaginary charms
down to the last finishing smile
and fishing for a little while
with enthusiasm and a safety net
of slick driftwood heavy and wet
stuffed with raisins and in a rising tide
of toy boats and seaweed
the color of blood that wild dogs bleed.