Behind her,
the flower seller, the oyster sampler,
the mushroom vendor, the cookie baker,
and the grass where your can lie down for free.
The ferry downhill blasts its horn
collects its last passengers
and sets off for the islands in the sound
The grass was all that was here
it didn't seem like a bargain then
so much trouble to mow
and muddy in the winter
but standing here with the berry dealer
the butcher, the ice cream maker,
the cheese distributor, now it looks
like prime real estate, and a steal!
behind her an old hill
taken for granted
we thought it would always
be vacant.
now it's the market
she made it.
But relax, these facts cannot
turn the noble ferry
from its course. Civilization
has indeed given rise
to catastrophe. And the grass
is still free. Being Eden meant
allowing it to be, even while
creating and event on top of it
which she would eventually leave.
Face we took for granted under
a too-big hat. Toothy smile
tangle of hair. What do we get
when we name things and
people? The unsellable swollen
with the pride of the sold.
The muscle sculptor, the dimwit
designer, the heartache healer,
the bobber for apples, the sleeper
in pastures, the pastor of commerce.
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