Anything But The Thing

Anything But The Thing

I read about flying squirrels and the lesser
known flying frogs. I marvel at their ingenuity,
their ability to take me away from this night's

poll results. I find them far more progressive
than the majority of Americans and can understand
why and how they have lived so long in such

diverse and ever-changing ecosystems, while
their human counterparts keep finding more
and more ways to destroy habitat, soft grasses,

clean waterways, hope. Like many, I concede
to the person who can eradicate this vile monster
who sits as High King in the microcosm

of existence I inhabit on this planet, cleanse
the unspeakable harm he has done. It comes
to this: stand inside a little booth in the middle

of nowhere or the middle of seemingly
everywhere, and cast out your line, the only
line left, for one on the left who knows

the right has clearly forgotten that fish
have feelings, too, and that the soft bottom
of the river cannot hold for long under

the heaviness of ignorance.