You Just Can’t Kill Us

For The Teacher Who Said
I’d Be Dead By Now

You just can’t kill us.
We’re dandelions
on a green front lawn.

We’re up your crack.
We multiply
like frigging rabbits

like mold growing
on energy
efficient windows

like furry things
who won’t scurry
from soft white light
on your carpeted hall.

We make you gasp
when we sashay past
in short little shorts
at the shopping mall.

We beat a rhythm
on old store benches.
We’re a rock of ages
in wind skinny fields.

We’ve got permanent
roots of dirt in the lines
of our palms and street
on the bottoms of our feet.

We flip off your
gated neighborhood
every time we breathe.

A prolific writer, you can check out Julie's writing at http://juliebuff.wordpress.com/.

Poetry