leaves
drip
dirty
from the top of the tree
and splash around the children
nursery rhyming.
if they’re lucky they’ll stay wet this year
and tear up clovers but nevermind
the voice from the school house
jangling lessons.
and then the sophisticated television
in images
snappy and vile
promises pointless futures of greed and politics.
this year the children are all getting drenched.
let’s follow one child now
as he grows through the peaceful anatomy of lizards
and fantasy
on his gameboy screen.
don’t be too quick to tell him
beyond the flying dragons
is nothing but a dying planet and a corporation
sponsoring it.
but don’t let him discover it all on his own either
or he’ll never get home again.
