Her hooves are manicured in cement painted taupe
It’s easy on our eyes, the color, this lifestyle.
When the National Geographic magazines show up donated
to the school library, they are so frayed we stop and ask
Is this how they’re living now? In Africa?
It’s 1998 and the magazines are dated 1990
Or have they seen some change?
Eight years is more than half a lifetime,
when you’re only fourteen
Have they been vaccinated?
Do they have indoor plumbing?
In the very least…
Maybe they were put on the fast track?
We slipped them cheat sheets to an easier life?
This is a lightbulb.
This is a sink.
This is healthcare.
There is a foundation to everything we do.
What we have come to know,
And it reaches
the length of our arms.
And you can stay in these patterns of thought;
you can send them in circles around your head.
You can call it Nascar.
I don’t think the librarian had time to tell us,
that they prefer to live that way because
it is what they know;
it is where their adaptations lie.
She probably wanted to tell us,
it’s what we know, what was handed to us,
that has us firmly placed where we are now.
Instead she just put her longest finger to her lips
and said shhhh.
Because she isn’t a teacher, she’s a librarian,
besides she doesn’t live like us either.
She has an apartment filled with books,
in the tighter more condensed part of town.
Where I’ve heard people live before they figure things out.
Before their priorities are set on owning
with hooves manicured -in cement, painted taupe