I shake the tree and it shakes me back
I fall, not far, from the apple of his eyehole.
Father figure (the neighbor) picks me up for dinner.
He sits me on the counter, pricks his little finger. 
I tar and I feather. I learn to read better!
Tread water with vigor. Stare up 
at the weather. My days 
have no numbers. I fidget 
with thunder. Happy as clam sauce, 
I call myself Dog Boss. Sit still, 
churn butter. Dance under 
umbrellas. Unhappy 
at the hour, I am a cocktail 
of many flowers.