My pride is a spider
wrapped loosely in tin foil
my legs can still move

then the tin ball with me inside
is placed in a coffee can
and sent rolling
down a rugged suburban hill
by a 10-year old
who did not know that the colors
that decorated my back
meant I was
harmless and rare

and with five legs broken
and this can still rolling
I can sing some blues
here in the can
as a spider
that I know no one will hear

but maybe
I will land soon
and be still
with a leg left
to stand on.

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