I remember when
Earth carried trees
instead of skyscrapers
like concrete babies never
learning to walk. Who am
I to open an ozone, juice the
veins of metal rivered downstream
a power plant? There are beans stalking
between my toes, jammed signals fighting
the airwaves for freedom under satellite’s rule.
I fly through clouds wetting my unyielding hair
for a blissful moment before turbulence. There’s
a new religion I wish to take shape of. Inside is a
hotel full of extinction. I remember wanting to meet
god & be best friends like we have known each other
our whole lives. Pastors claim I have a hole in my heart
attacking my morals. They say I strut through too many
vacant doors needing to stretch my spine like a cigar wrapper
compressing my half-life. A Styrofoam statue of each human
occupying this rock is buried in a graveyard land filled with pebble
planets nibbling the sandwich bags our mothers packed us for lunch.
What a wonderful parking lot, blanketing Earth’s cold skin with absorbent
blacktop. Barefoot we invent excuses more artificial than our own intelligence.
So long skull, I owe you a fermented beverage the next lifetime we bump into one another.
