when i am on the road for long,
and time drags on, all i am left
with are these musings and
one of which
my soul aches for.
there is no freedom out on the open road –
there are only billboards reading ‘HELP STOP CHILD CANCER’
and cattail meadow patches, grazed farm land,
and acre measurements for sale.
so i had this thought that we treat the world,
the earth and all its disasters and beauties,
the same way we treat ourselves:
something to be bought, sold, trashed and admired.
we are terrified of loving
and no gorgeous running river
can stop itself and no pathetic shrubbery
can survive in the winter
and a twister can’t stop self-destruction,
so what if we were just the emotional product
of everything there already is and and always was?
humans were the big bang of my heart,
living up to what we are told is awful
and i know, i know, a zebra would hate me
and my selfish materialism but i can’t care
because i have never heard a zebra
scream the way i have.