It
feels good
to not levitate
beneath your "broad,
wise"
wings. Where the weight
of the world--
or who won the
argument--
while missing parents
canoodled their partners
or pole dancing classes
swept them from their
normal floors;
and kids
fought with sticks
and warpaint
for fun;
until it was war
and the kids
battled kitchen
knives
on the
floor
and the weight
of the blame
fell to the
little girl
who stood watching
from a safe distance
while her
two best friends
fought over tator tots.
{whose side would she
take?}

Those tator tots sadly evolved
into **** packs
and late night robberies
& unfortunately the
kids on the block
become thieves--
and the weight
of this economy
this system dancing
on the knapsacks
{as the kids ransack
and abandon for dead}
on the briefcases
{as the adult clones
corrupt til dead}

And it
feels good
to not hover
beneath the
view
of chemical dusted skies and factory worked
feathers.*

There is a world
in the sky
where none of this
has happened--
It's a place where humans
don't exist--
{where we cant crush the earth
with our weighted machines}