Fires and footsteps

Liking the color and shape of things,
I turn off the sound to human drama.
So much insistence that something is going on here that’s not.
Imaginary contests.
Positioning of urgent ideas, and solutions to problems that may not exist.
A panic to do SOMETHING! while these damn lights are on.
Perform for the master of all people.
Tithe to a wonderful Santa Claus
or to a biotech employer
or to your favorite shoe brand.
Put Post Malone on a stage for the sake of Budweiser.
The latest organ grinder motivates a new batch of Gucci chasers.
Put a single man beneath blazing spotlights.
Quick, someone find him a Courtney Love.

I’ll take the gutter aside unknown Oscar Wildes.
I’ll take rice and spam and hot sauce over a goose liver.
I’ll take the stars over the TV.
The glance of a child or the impatience of a dog
over the insistence of human woes.
The gentle turning of two-toned leaves
over the flipping of pages in a self-help book.
A sunrise over a sunset.
Awakening over dreaming.
Nothing over something.
A flame burned bright and clean.
Not much left but tracks in mud that will
wash away with the next rain.