Mushrooms race each other

to be over with and begin again, which

is the familiarity of the forest floor.

 

They talk, too,

expose themselves with abandon

like strangers on a bus.

They don't have a lot of time to think

or get acquainted with anyone

and that gets some of them into trouble,

especially the poisonous ones

whose self-centering bursts in chaos.

The innocuous ones, most of them,

absorb fast under pressure.

They understand

how quickly the end comes

and concern themselves with behavior,

philosophy, substance, and wit.

They are pleasantly

self-contained