Protozoa

I’m a tiny animal,
just one of trillions
(but who’s counting?)
who really own the world.
We’ve been here
just shy of forever
and the one thing I can tell you
about people is this:
they are good real estate.
You have to love them
with their migrations and
their filth. I know
they’re sure
that when we move in
we’re some kind of God thing,
but honestly? They
don’t get it: we aren’t trying
to do anything but get by, reproduce,
suck up what we need to live. God
has had very little to say to us
ever since he gave up on the
real estate market. His money
is in commodity futures. He leaves
the hard wet work to us: the homesteading,
the improvements, the clear cutting.
God doesn’t send us, he just
depends on us. We build where we want
and he banks on the results.

I’d say
it’s like one hand
washing the other,
but somehow,
that doesn’t seem right.