They plowed the field last week, so anybody who doesn’t want to doesn’t have to. The grass lay faded brown wild colors wilting dead in the broken dirt, mostly the color of dark dirt remained the other side I wanted to move with green in the grass to the other side I looked across, the way I stood wanting that, yet thinking around it I dropped my things in the dirt and the wind blew my papers like fallen leaves white, into the field. I followed slowly after them to me picking them up, different colors of autumn where they were blown along the broken way clods twisted dirt in my shoes hurting my feet, slowly i glimpsed a white bird’s egg along the way unbroken, plowed out of a nest I imagined but saw only a golf ball picked up witb the fallen leaves I stumbled to the other side and walked onto the street with the golf ball and, two small boys walked across the lawn towards the street before me on the street with a frog held seemed all bent up. Look at my frog, he said. It got killed in the garbage can. Its guts are hanging out. Its colored guts hanging out wet in the air I breathed while the other boy smiled too was very careful with the frog, explained it was nurt set it on the dirt its guts touched first, it moved. I turned away tried felt a little sick. You’ve got a big enough soul, I thought I heard her say in praise, echoed, I wondered you’ve got a big enough soul enough soul now open up. I choked, the hot break away before the tears, and violently threw the golf ball into the field.