There’s a dumpster near my place
That smells bad
But it’s shorter to the 7-11.
When it’s dark
Misting a little
I hear a voice.
“I was small.
I was out of sight.
And I wasn’t very smart.”
It’s always the same.
“I was small –
Like our earth from a space probe.
Invisible –
Like your hopes when you’re deep asleep.
Not smart –
So what can I say?
“I wish – well –
If I had of been big
Like Serena Williams.
They wouldn’t have messed
With Serena Willams.”
It was fading.
“If I’d had some money...”
I rubbed the mist on my face
To come to my senses.
I always hear that voice in the garbage can.
That choice in the garbage can.
28 April 2015
Acyutananda has a pro-life blog at www.NoTerminationWithoutRepresentation.org