Random Thought

You don’t even stop
to think about it.
You breeze through
as if it were nothing
worth considering —
maybe it is, of course;
maybe it means nothing
all these years later, when

all kinds of flowers bloom
by the front door, all kinds of bees
roll around the flowers, all kinds
of danger and crisis are out here
and maybe it means nothing,
nothing at all.  Outside it’s easy

to believe in nothing,
after all; you came up
believing in things that turned out
to be of no value to the world
and you turned from them into
a trust in the artificial values
they gave you to trust; now
you are punished by them, the crosscut
of saws over your back, the whine
of lying voices in your ears
stung by the hornets, bitten
by the long snouts of the weasels
elected since the days turned corroded
and false.

What happened to us? Eh,
what happened to the rest of them?

You correct the message. You are all set
with the message, after all. You’re fine —
after all, nothing will touch you,
you are magic, you are nothing
but smoke to them, scheming,
figuring, calculating the end —
and you don’t even figure, and

the bees don’t care.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
onward,
T