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Poem

pitter
patter
goes the
rain
upon
the roofs
upon the
streets
upon the
heads
of us all
walking
in the
west
to our
nearest 
grocery 
store or
convenient 
store
with our
common
human
thirst
coming 
from the
daily 
grind, yet
our own
exertion
here is 
absolutely
nothing 
like that of
the people
in the lands
far far away,
whose 
resources we
have become
experts
at squeezing
every last drop
into our cars
into our products
into our lives
& now back into
our 
bodies
as we take the 
last refuge---that
very nectar of 
life which keeps
all of us humans
trucking here on 
this planet---

water.

as bottled water
runs more expensive than
gasoline,
coca-cola &
nestle (to name
a couple) start to build “the next
empire”---one in which 
fresh water
gets sucked up from wherever it 
naturally flows
& pumped into tankers
owned by private companies
which will
divvy up the goods to the highest 
bidders
in the near future.  

so to the people of the third world---
whose most valued natural resource,
of which whom some walk
miles to get every day---
we of the
west,
we of the 1st world,
raise our middle fingers up with both hands in
tandem
shouting
“good luck, suckers!
we welcome your business in the future---
be it selling you bottled water or
cemetery plots, coffins, urns, and
shovels.”

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