quagmires

the world vs. the world

While you were saying goodbye to the flowers the last time I had you over,
I apologized to the lamps for not getting the same attention.
It seems that you prefer green.
I prefer gray.
But maybe that’s just because I have become a way
or maybe just something in the way,
a road block in the flow of the world,
but only because I’m so confused when I’m swirled
around in circles imperfect
because they were too perfect
to be true to you and your tree-hugging habits.
It’s something I wish I could have and take classes
on.
I admire this.
I admire the woods,
but I am stuck in an abyss
of tech-raved Best Buy goods.
Save me!
Take me!
The hell away from tweets on phones
and next to tweets from birds prone
to eating berries in bushes
and living in trees luscious.
I am unhappily accepting of gray,
but no one every asked me what I say
about the color of metal.
It’s something I’ve settled
for, though I secretly hope for more.
You did not hope.
You walked until you were sore,
through the mountains and rocks and grass,
and I hope I’m not being too crass
to say “damn, look at that ass.”
Show me the hills, valleys, depths,
for these will be the memories I will keep kept
locked in the back of my mind,
and I don’t think I would mind
being a little rough around the edges
if it means I can play in the hedges
rather than staring at moving words
and missing the entire world.

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