I listen to
coffee and cigarette words
struggling in Martice.
“SELF-HAPPINESS?”
“…people we care about.
Doing what we want, cooperatively.
Three inner human beings smiling
because we let them smile.
But how can I smile
with a sad, torn, broken human spirit?
“If I’m not good in the sunshine,
why do I say to the person who can’t comprehend,
‘Where do I fit?’
“They don’t care
because they have the power,
bossing me around as if I’m an animal.
It don’t work that way.
“I was looking to work;
I wasn’t out in the swamp.
…know what I mean?
“I’m like,
“WOW” can you help me.
Can you help me.
…know what I mean?
“How can I smile
when there’s nothing to smile about?
How do I make it better?
I can’t smile about pride
because I don’t have any.
What part do I have?
“…I’m still not a vegetable.
I’m just me going down the same road
with a different pebble.
“…know what I do?
keep planting,
I keep growing.”
