Bees are dying they tell me.

Understood be it that we cannot change a thing.

I choose to hunker down and place my head
between my knees instead of getting up and doing
anything worthwhile about it instead I'll buy the
bread that isn't organic because it's twelve cents cheaper

and the trip to the store is faster in my car instead of
on my bike and I'm expecting that call from my father
and I really cannot afford to miss it because he calls so
rarely and I just want to connect with him before he dies

and I really cannot care about almonds costing twice as
much next year when I cannot afford beef this year and
the grasslands won't last anyway because the globe is warming
and there's not enough rain to make hay and why should I care

about the poisons on the fields when I still cannot find a bug-killer
strong enough to rid my house of cockroaches - those roaches
who can live for a year on a drop of grease left on the back of
the stove when I last fried donuts for a treat on one of those

rare days when I felt good but the bees are dying and I am sad
to think that soon we will all be dead because we cannot stop
the madness and I know that the bees are dying and once again
I'll buy the bag of bleached white flour grown with roundup seeds

from Monsanto because it makes such nice white sweet bread.

 ~ S.A.M. Tanner ~