My countrymen wipe their asses
with the same substance they hand over
in restaurants in return for life-
sustaining morsels.

They sleep on furnishings piled high
of all creations: water, heat, air, and sweet
sweet cotton. For vacation, they sleep in bags
on the earth to escape the complexities of
modernity, sheltered in coddling canvas.

They leave the shower running while they make
their mass-produced breakfasts, answer phone calls,
and shyly say goodbye to their own children,
knowing that the water will never run out, that
paper will always sustain them, and that their furnishings
can be discarded and replaced at anytime.

05/31/2008

Posted on 07/09/2008
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