imagine a life
without brick houses
and neat little driveways
or gated apartment complexes
or restaurants that serve dead cows
or crowded feeways with desperate cars
or nightly news programs,
repeating the broken records of man hurting man

Our lives are white paper; these modern conveniences
are placed on our tabula rasa
and stenciled, sometimes with black
sometimes with grey, to form
a prosaic mosaic of innate addiction

No answer is given to "why are we here?"
other than servitude to God or to fellow men
(these themselves sprang from ideas of lonely men)

A traveler at sea, lost
spies many boats heading in every direction
all with chaotic claims of "land here!"
and
"gold there!"

The others,
(he knows)
are just as lost as he.

interesting.

beans

corn.