right now, red on green
soon to be, red on white
such is, simplicity’s plight
indistinguishable from every other day
that is until life among the wind…begins to sway
nature, a wonder, as I blow like rubbish from here to there
all the junk knowledge I have received…
none of it of this earth
Perpetual surveying of the damage…now that spring is here.
White trash, multi colored rubbish.
No greenery to be found.
Just months before
high praise cometh for the northern town.
And, accolades were placed at the tomb of ‘do not park.’
I feel more native than most.
Having been…born at the pulpit of the father, the sun, the out-of-town ghost.
A sort of chastity, pollutes me.
Hinders my reaction.
Makes living unsustainable.
If it were not for the abandoned house.
The left shoe littered by a white line.
Trails purposely marked but deliberately…hard to find.
Clogs in the sleet and ice.
Boots in the sand.
The oddity of it all interrupting the big plan.