still travelling in the wires
turning the words inside out
nowhere is this more evident
than on that quiet, dusty stretch of road
the balance is rarely upset
except when too many birds try to land
the wires shake and shimmy in the wind
like someone trying not to laugh at a funeral
or running uphill both ways
like in the old days
when everything was gilded
and smoky and magical
or at least that’s how the past is packaged
looking so much better
attainable, earthier
than today’s fast-paced, plastic world
with endless smiles and ever-growing pharmaceuticals
to light our way
when we replete our natural reserves
looking for new ways
to voice old arguments
hoping to connect
when we isolate ourselves more
is tougher
when the messages we want to send
can’t be carried on the wires