On top of the world
They move on large
ice floes, but they don't know
what goes on underneath.
Up there
They don't think
about what they look like
They don't make decisions
like "What's on tonight?"
On top of the world
it's pure and white
there's not one slimy
smelly grease vat in sight.
Latitudes below
They think they can
throw it all away.
Like anime they
lift into the air
in waves of slow mo
caricature faces.
Fast forward crash
slinging brown bottles
into dumpsters
as if they were gods
eliminating the unwanted
into manmade metallic
consuming black voids.
Old television sets
appliances, batteries
paint and motor oil.
These things don't just go away
They're put right where they stay.
As you climb
to the top of the heap
look over and
take a peek.
Don't smile,
grimace or stare
at the twisted cocktail
pile of stench
you will find there.
At that moment
it won't matter what you wear
or what you've done to prepare.
Walking along
the toxic beaches
the earth belches
and leaches.
As a multitude
of sins ooze around
your feet
pulling you down
you can no longer stand
because toes don't make the man.
