Our Old Story
If everything wrong were righted today
my bet is that the thrill would last for a spell
but then somebody somewhere’d find something
less than acceptable about our almost-heaven.
Somebody somewhere’d swear a disparity,
this casting a shadow on their bright countenance,
this causing their hand to rise up and slay their
brother or sister or neighbor’s boyfriend’s cousin,
this squeezing a blood cry from a bucolic cornfield,
this starting a chapter in a new old testament as some old timer somewhere’d say Here we go again.
this starting a chapter in a new old testament as some old timer somewhere’d say Here we go again.
my.
My.
looking out here at a bucolic cornfield.
If that isn’t the perfect description of the human condition, I don’t know what is. Thanks for it.