Earthly

The air is slow and close
The usual cool evening blush is heavy.

(Further weights upon our shoulders).

The peal of bells-
Wedding, at this hour-
Or maybe marking of that,

I am not sure.

There are full brick chimneys scoring the sky- I never noticed before-
Scoring the sky like bright, bright gashes.

I return to the question of that day

(my 2000th new thought)

Where does this nature end and our constructive enterprise begin,
Melding of the planted trees and smog-charred sky?

I walk on earth
(on slabs above it)
And I am fired and shot through with thoughts that stifle me,
Moulded by my own chosen society.

Her face jerks my vision
And
Love too is manufactured
To some degree?

Building our own inner walls to smash,
I realise I am a brick in their church.
Where do we go now?