Holland, Michigan

Everyone here

is racing yellow lights.

No one likes to ponder

life at reds. The fragility

of tulips. The radio’s

always playing the same

commercial.

The Earth’s not in a

hurry—it took a triple-

billion years

to double the cell.

There’s a fossil way

in Amsterdam

that shouldn’t be. Anything

will happen

when your city’s

six feet down. Interrogate

Hans Brinker. The flash

of his silver skates.

Ask him why he always

splits the bill. If Heintje’s

worse than Bieber.

Back here, there’s a badger

on the road

with insides out,

the moon a slice of gouda

saying naught. The driver

unaware two wheels are

bleeding, zooming

past the signs for 31,

will never take the

time to smell the flowers.

Andreas Gripp

October 3, 2025

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