Updated: Oct 11, 2022
A woke friend with dreadlocks in a wide brimmed hat,
through a fog of incense, below a dream catcher,
above a mound of tie-dyed rugs,
told me that anger was bad for me, even
in short bouts, and that I must quell it
with every bit of might as if it were a spark
about to take flame on the fur of my cat.
A bit drastic, I thought.
She recommended sea salts and bloodstone
crystals to cleanse my spirit, then said:
"These rocks have healing properties. It’s science!"
I asked her to explain the science,
but all she said was: "Not a single being on earth
is built for a fiery defence.”
I told her, "Well, actually, some species are."
"No. Nothing is, unless you believe in
dragons that spit fire."
She doused the sage and smashed the trey
of smelly sticks and strode off without
a second glance, while screaming:
"Nothing is built for fire. Nothing is!"
A bit angry, I thought.
I didn’t get a chance to tell her that
bombardier beetles shoot fire from their asses
and a spark was taking flame on her butt.