I feel, in this freezing
wind, my oneness—
drawn and haphazardly
pushed around,
scribbled, spit,
scratch-tallied, and
X-ed out—as if this
ponderous, senile planet
is struggling
to teach a piss-ant sky
how to do basic
math with me. And he
(the smarmy idiot)
keeps making
a blustery show
of his trying—but really
doesn't understand—nor does he
see, if the whole world gets it
already, why he should also
have to be bothered.
