Apology for Creation

By
More by this author
I can do nothing but smile
When the grunts of passing trucks
(Both sounding and smelling like pigs)
Waft through my cracked window.
I could not wish
For more beautiful flowers to study,
Than those silver cans
And cigarette butts
That sprout perennially from the cement.

My spirit (yes, spirit) turns
When I see the fire escapes
(creeping like ivy) on tall, tall buildings.

I (never cease to) wonder at how
Artists take the world
(– I don’t mean just artists)
And create another world right on top:
Building buildings
Out of the building blocks
Built by nature
Whose own building blocks
Came from who knows where (exactly).

I examine the ancient Pepsi can,
(a 2003 special edition)
And think: special edition?
I scrape down the hood of the abandoned blue truck
And think: paint? wheels?
I read the words on the rust thinned sign –
Language into squiggles?

My mind is swollen as I watch,
In the rearview mirror,
The woman J-walking behind my car
And I think to her,
“We are human.”
“We made this.”





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback