It’s early November,
A piercing breeze has brought autumn to the edge of my windowsill
The seasons turn; each blowing a new grain of sand into the palm of my hand
If I stay here a thousand years,
I could build a mighty castle
Or perhaps a sand-dune for the march of the ants.
They would then go about their business gathering food
Building newer and better sand-dunes.
Cities, countries, civilizations worth!
This would naturally require a great deal of
specialization, delegation, allocation, rationalization and a bunch of other ~tions
peppered in with a few ~isms that imprison the random play of free association.
There will be subjects, objects, abject rejects;
the desired and undesirable tucked away in monochrome cubicles
clicking away
on keyboards to optimize proficiency and eliminate redundancy
in order to propel the species to build newer and better sand-dunes.
Or…I could just wipe my hands clean.
Pull my collar up and walk into the city
Its crystal lights .