Waxen (Poem)

People

           (us)

Like flaxen textiles
         
          move like jets,

Mentally,

          until Earth unsettles

Our fingers.

Whereupon

          we create units, additional units

To protect us

          Whether they be carry ons, wagon trains, laptops or automobiles---

As long as they are

          Well-designed,

Utterly impractical.

          It's the twenty-first century.

A hell of a lot that does mean.

          Clap.

Larry Fike