Petulant Weeds

Look at the sad people barely putting up



with the flight patterns of pollen.



Look at them troubled by one more



irritation in their lives.



They will be the last ones standing



when the great forests are felled



and the imperious sunflowers are finally uprooted



and the petulant grasses are tamed to law-abiding highways.



Some poet will rise up to speak on behalf



of the Bornean orangutan and the Ili pika



and some Hollywood director will find the great composer



of metaphors and the camera will worship



her fingernails and eyelashes before he lets her fade



behind the closing credits. He will whimper



in the darkness, and like us, stumble towards



the nearest pharmacy and run his hands



pensively over the boxed nasal sprays



knowing how difficult to read real estate reports



when your eyes are stone and gravel and how



difficult, too, listening to impenitent developers,



styling their bejeweled class rings and tie-clips,



whisper *property, property, property*.