I was 11…
dashing, ducking, dodging.
From who?
The cops.

Making swift, quick movements, my head swiveled
searching for the brothers in blue.
Our harmless game of cops and robbers continued,
until “STOP!”

My cousin Cole caught a grasshopper.
A long, green, alien-like dude.
We made awkward eye contact, when he said,
“$20 if you eat it.”

Of course I chomped on it,
that money would be mine.
The taste made my eyes flood,
and my throat fein for water.

With a lettuce-like crunch, liquid guts spluged sour juice,
as my tongue twinged.
Legs like floss stuck between my teeth,
became my meal of a wealthy man.