Who emerges from Lascaux Cave
into the heavy gray warehouse gloom, picking, and packing
Who rests on Buddha’s belly, immersed in Oooommm,
is whisked away to airless Cambodian garment factory
Who plowed and tilled wheat fields with her four daughters and seven sons,
sits at a computer administering payrolls and answering emails
Who sold wares, exchanging endless banter with merchant neighbors
is a robotics firm manager espousing a dystopian future
Who picked wild wheat and berries on Hilly Flanks,
emerges as a corporate executive, sculpting data for shareholders
Who lolled in men’s houses awaiting bison hunts,
is trapped in a cubicle forest, hearing hoofbeats race across keyboards
Who island-hopped throughout Polynesia on sturdy sea canoe,
assists automation pilot a Delta jet
Who’d been the most obedient peasant to manor lord
emerges as the office manager’s yes man
Who was an early follower of Muhammad, went on hijra to Yathrib,
sits as a bank teller, ‘neath security cameras’ perpetual gaze
Who farmed a small plot in rural, southwest, medieval China,
is a New York City cabbie, cursing drivers and pedestrians for good measure
Who fought early English incursions as Irish chieftain,
awakens to find herself transporting euro-replete bags in an armored car
Who had prophetic dreams as ancient Chaldean fortune-teller
is a homeless teen, napping on street’s edge, wrapping herself, caterpillar-like, in tattered clothes
~Peter Crowley
Melrose, Massachusetts, USA
So true.
Regards,
Sincerely