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Poem

I have a son
who worries

His economic vocation
requires a political vacation
from the rest of us
and perhaps even light of sun

Which hardly feels sustainable
or resonant
and certainly not win/win resilient.

I have a son
so brilliant
he could choose to hunt
and gather shopping carts
at Walmart

And find a way
to help shoppers feel
he is vacationing
with
and for all of us.

I have a son
whose most visible mistake
is believing his anger and fear
stem from missing invitations
to enter his one true
politically correct
and socially esteemed
vocation

As if any employment
he could embrace
would not become more sacred
by his warm communication,
cooperative invitation,
profound sublimation,
ecosystemic renunciation
of fear
to make wrong
ego-uncentering annunciation
articulation
of what he means
by joining in
with this multiculturing humane race

Of confusing
competitive and cooperative
eco-political pace.

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