Chomping on an organic Jonagold apple,
Perched on a wooden post, reeking of sweat,
Dressed in a plastic bag skirt,
And watching the vultures soar over the Pacific,
I am the Modern Savage.
When not even a caffeine boost
And the widest Granny Gear you ever did see
Could help me,
I watched my leather sandals
Do-si-do beneath me as my wheels turned
In smooth revolutions
And I crept up the highway beside civilized motor-mobiles.
At the top, Wild Radish flowers bloom a vibrant yellow
Deeper and richer than the sun
And dance to the music of icy waves
Lashing at jagged rocks.
When I look into them,
It is impossible
Impossible
To feel anything less
Than unconditional love and compassion for every being on this planet.
The bees, too, understand,
And the seagulls
And the tall grass.
We are all savages
On this inconceivably precious land.
