Petulant Weeds

Look at the sad people barely putting up

with the flight patterns of pollen.

Look at them troubled by one more

irritation in their lives.

They will be the last ones standing

when the great forests are felled

and the imperious sunflowers are finally uprooted

and the petulant grasses are tamed to law-abiding highways.

Some poet will rise up to speak on behalf

of the Bornean orangutan and the Ili pika

and some Hollywood director will find the great composer

of metaphors and the camera will worship

her fingernails and eyelashes before he lets her fade

behind the closing credits. He will whimper

in the darkness, and like us, stumble towards

the nearest pharmacy and run his hands

pensively over the boxed nasal sprays

knowing how difficult to read real estate reports

when your eyes are stone and gravel and how

difficult, too, listening to impenitent developers,

styling their bejeweled class rings and tie-clips,

whisper property, property, property.