You may own my water
but you can't drink my distance
I brew my coffee
far too bitter
Makes mornings
Mellows the litter
blowing along a curb
in the shadows
of houses
worn
by winter

I see you off--
in some warm cottage
Watching
plantations grow the beans
for all the world it seems
has been a subsidiary of
some agglomeration

Little brown people busy
owning nothing
work the soil
while I die without
moving the earth