so long insides

i was once a caramel caterpillar.
i lived in a small space between
some white bricks
and i licked the mold with
all my fingery feelies.
i felt the grooves of old cement,
laid down in the cold, wet dreams
inside them. there was
anxiety in the lifestyle.

i don't know what i am now. i
could be a dumb dog or one of those
flat-faced cats. maybe all the other
stuff is gone and i'm a bowl of
thick, white milk,
a hunk of stringy meat still
sitting on the table.

maybe a cloud of dust will drop by
and you'll feel me dig out
some change. i am two scratchy eyes
and an old backyard.
my stomach is a long, pink walk
to sunny bench.