In the mail (flightless cormorants)

Today’s poem was about cormorants

which I know little about

so I started reading scientific articles

but lost interest just past halfway

because I was thinking about

how obscure my death will be

and how it won’t affect more than

a handful of people

(maybe a few more tangentially)

and how most of us can only hope to do something good before we go

but spend little of our time

pursuing things that actually make us

happy or fulfilled because

the life we’re created is one of

vicious cycles of paperwork, climbing,

complaining, and consuming,

it’s like we’re trying to vacuum the forest floor

to make it as clean

as we want but it’s already

perfect.

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