Part of Us

I'm so hungree to bee a part of aneething.

I want to bee outside on a feeld beetween some trees.

I can see four miles in each direction into the past and into the future.

All the work is done. The soil is tilled. We are complacent and ecstatic even though we should have done everything differently. We are perfect and we know it. Our skin is clean and cool and clear and white.

The wind blows on us at two miles per hours.

Our tummies contain the perfect amount and composition of food. We are intensely satisfied. We each have a lover of the opposite sex.

We all want children and have no doubts that we will care for them perfectly and they will be as perfect as we.

We harvest radishes. We are the center of everything.

We wear denim and plaid flannel. We could be models but we are too cool and too proud.

We have no souls, but we are the soul of everywhere we are and all that we do.

We never have to try. This life is a first rate film about us.

We built this country. We built the Indians. We built the coasts and the mountains and the shining sky and everything between.

We invented humor. We never laugh. Our calm heroic expressions never change.

We are always standing outside. We eat delicious healthy macaroni and cheese in our spotless farmhouse and that image makes you cry.

The community named every street, park, public building, and bus stop bench after us.

This is not some mystical metaphor. Not an aging homely horny hermit.


We spy on our pathetic minions throughout the expanses with a godly caring golden eye.


Do you think we are going to be okay?