A supermarket produce kid with spiky hair
And a smock, who came out of the ground
Of America, is holding court, explaining how
His European ancestors came here
Like a mangy, froth-mouthed dog,
A gift from Grandpa King,
Who put the Crown on the rabid mongrel’s head
And locked him inside the United States Cage
Before slithering his old devolving bones back
Into the Atlantic Ocean.
With a basketball hoop inside the Cage I’d enjoyed
Playing by myself, but now the fevered dog,
On his hind legs and in a cop’s uniform, is
Half-evolved and is bullying me into playing
One on one against you. But we are
The same mentality. Seeing you isn’t looking
At your face, but is seeing this world that’s
Here to help you, through your eyes.
Your smallest identity. Now that the animal’s
A part of me, I notice that the Cage’s back
Gate is unlocked.
I walk up a slope of Eden, to where the tension
Between Home and this fourth-dimensional ground
Is in seeing that the Doorway to this sound
Is the Orb where inside is the same as outside;
