private jets fly overhead, bringing them in one by one,
the millionaires and the billionaires, and the ones who were chosen by fate
or destiny or privilege or greed or genius or whatever
to lead to change to better to improve
I stand outside smoking my cigarette as they fly over my head
the full moon flies above us all
as the fog moves in and the water from recent rains
drips rhythmically around me like the ticking of a clock
tick tock drip drop
like the world reminding you that all is plunging to its death always
I put out my cigarette
a little lizard pops its head out of the wet earth and scuttles away (true!)
as I stand alone under my suburban porch light
wondering where all the time slips away
as the jets keep flying overhead with their millionaires and the billionaires
20 something kids too brilliant for college
millennial goobermensch
owning time too precious to waste
accomplishments that must precede accomplishments and build on more accomplishments
bigger better more profitable all the time
disruptive paradigm shifting game changing revolutionary entrepreneurial startups
good great words
that will all change the way we see and be and breath and pee
funded with endless credit and advertising
tech money tech money tech money
because they are and always will be the next great billion dollar idea thingy
the apps that transform thoughts into rainbows that save the world
and end wars and feed the hungry and clothe the poor
and home the homeless and soul the soulless
and you me we will never be the same you me we ever again
the saving of humanity and the manatee from calamity
deep breath
sigh
the pang of time that has passed you by
the bitterness of mid-life envy
of having been left behind
the private jets fly fly fly
strange you think
how the moon seems so indifferent
craters a million years old
gaze down from that radiant pie
down through the hundred thousand miles of dark clear space
like eyes that have seen all
and will see all yet go by
dangling precariously
that great orb floating
looking, seeing, shining
thinking
like a million year drop in the sky
dangling by a single word (sigh)
but the moon is there
moving faster than any jet
yet just sitting there
older than any being
yet being and being there
larger and more astonishing than any idea
yet never needing improvement
never being bettered or biggered or two-point-oh tinkered
the jets keep flying away, always away from you
always leaving you behind
but the moon travels with you
like a companion
like a fellow traveler
so I wipe my feet
and I step inside
and though the jets still roar away in the air
I know the moon is there and will always be there
and I wonder
if it’s not better to be
like the moon?
