I can see the four glass walls
because they're dirty.
Filthy really, and in need of a razor blade
or a molten purification process.
But I like the dirty glass.
The dirt makes it real
and muddies the view of the miniature
naked people staring at me
from the inside,
oblivious to their recent
trip through the Wonkavision machine.
When the smog clears
you may get a glimpse of Demi Moore
in the corner of the world.
She still thinks the world is round.
Ah, that thought will fade away after
generations of stories pass
the time and the truth
into myth and religion.
Call it a God complex,
but I don't have as many pets
as my neighbors.
This article appears in Jun 24-30, 2009.