when there's big stuff around
A woman holds a leash. Can’t see its end.
Looks into a thicket says, “Don’t think I’ll see you again.”
I ask if it’s big. She says, “Very.”
I say, “I got to be going then, I’m in a hurry.”
Last thing I want to see is Mrs. Baskerville’s hound.
Steps come easy when there’s big stuff around.
There’s no friction when feet don’t touch the ground.
The path takes me high, away from the thicket.
She’s still pulling on the leash. I’m worried and I look it.
I’m thinking about big stuff hidden in my head.
You can lead a horse to water but a pencil must be lead.
Things written in stone, sunk deep it’s hard to tell they’re home.
But the traces are there and if you pull, they’ll crush bone.
Last thing I want to hear is that crunching sound.
Steps come easy when there’s big stuff around.
There’s no friction when feet don’t touch the ground.
There’s bone-crushing noises coming from the thicket.
She says, “Mommy told you, you’re supposed to lick it.”
Got hidden stuff eating me alive.
Hidden stuff always seems to thrive.
It wants to win. You do too.
Who’s holding the leash depends on whose point of view.
But it’s fascinating, the thicket is so dense.
It’s like the leash ain’t connected but that’s a pretense.
It’s getting late but it’s still easy to see
The end of the leash is where it wants to be.
Concealed and wrapped around so many trees
That it’s become another big mystery.
Solution’s at the end, if you follow it through.
Just be real careful that it doesn’t eat you.
So keep moving, first a leap and then a bound.
Steps come easy when there’s big stuff around.
There’s no friction when feet don’t touch the ground.