manicured nails chip
scratching society’s flawless surface
& thoughts turn rObOtiC
while we frantically count ourselves
through the days (
1:35:40 until dusk).
we have to squint to see the sun
among exhaust fumes and pesticides,
neatly fold dreams into filing cabinets
& spasm home to the guttural sounds of
late afternoon traffic.
isn’t it time to
inhale the mud
and breathe roses
upon stainless steel?