stained pavement

when she's whispering and you can't ignore
when she knocks you down and calls you a whore

she says you're an animal plagued by childish desires
she begs you to pay attention and open your eyes
she sends leaves past you, billowing in tornadoes
she waits and screams to let the fuck go.

she watches and taps fingers to the cloud
bursts of thunder as you try to dance around
you should listen and yet you fight & yell
you breathe and scream and she rings a bell

the one that it's time to eat, time to drink
time to suck a cock and try to think.

other days she says 'fuck you' and won't tell you unless you listen
you try to move the way you think you're supposed to
but if you don't hear her voice, where are you even going?

don't imagine many people actually hear
if they actually put their butts in gear

i suspect i'm one of (still) many others
who respect the wind from Nature's Mother

i'm not naive enough to think i'm the most important
but i am dreaming like i've built her a fortress.