Rainbows at sunset, roads to follow.
Lined with flowers, cars and noise,
In capitols, in the wild, in back,
The alleyways, the secret ways,
How do we know where to tread lightly?
When should our feet pound the pavement
And fight the oppression that takes
The middle class and the poor from us?
We celebrate the shiny, fountain sprinkling
Water that gives us a drink of hope,
Then take our place, eyes down
Shuffling along as we try to
Keep the noise down so the neighbors
Don't complain. Is this the road of
The future? I step outside and look up
At the soaring bald eagles who were once
Endangered. Their flyways are now healthier.
Our roadways should be healthier, broader,
Wiser, a step firm with resolve, a hand
On the wheel, a place to arrive at.
Catastrophic bees in tees
Seek the edges of green lawn,
While night workers, oblivious,
Try sleeping behind drapes
Of white noise.
Teams of green clad
Buzzing monsters attack,
Tool driven, belt drives engaged,
Soon replacing one buzz
For an informal hum.
They are a constant.
A suburban flock
And Grasshoppers, snails,
Slipping competition for wages.
Grooming nature, using comb,
Scissors that are automatically
and Mysteriously changing in form
It rained, grew, and in growing
Fertilized the minds of the Suburbian.
Nonsense you might cry,
But you'll never be heard.
Seen and unseen as they mow,
Edge, and disappear
Rush hour will never see their like.
The grass wars have begun.
Who is the cheapest?
The fastest? The meanest?
The honest? The overpriced?
All on paper, awaiting signatures
Of concession. Sign here, please.