Walking off the path to piss behind a bulbous tree, sprigs that could be Poison Oak surround
me with memories of red pustules parading "up underside of penis / and raggedy scrotum, /
dotting belly, chest, / crisscrossing forehead—"

I examine their color, shape, number of leaves,
not knowing what's behind
this slightly swaying
                                  spindly
   
                         display.