Aside

When time is worth something
You realize... you realize.
In this air of environmental protection
(or at least realized value)
We glue our eyes to squares of glass
And frame appealing nerve endings
To our institutions and past lives
Of unending curb and bank
Stashing away tomorrows sale today
And selling yesterday's dream
As something new, I hear say.

And in That library of Congress
What is gone today is silence
And the seeming eternity of a forest
Or praire that stretches on forever
Where people would swaddle babies
And Swat them if they were white.
Which originally was preferable, in those days,
To being exposed and left for prey of wolves
Or vultures, or even the common dog
With cats gnawing on the leftovers
All because Dad had little patience.

But we would work for things
Shinier than peace and love
So we might have everything in our world
Instead?  It would seem
When interest is the only thing free anymore
Where time is money
And speculation drives up the cost
of our everything peace.