Carrie Matthews

Wakeup Little Carrie
2003-06-23 02:49:46 (UTC)

Grass


I can't hear the grass grow
My eardrums have been shattered by the noise
of steamshovels, jack hammers, and cement mixers
I can't see the soft green turfs
My eyes have been blinded
by bright steel and tinted glass
I can't smell the freshness of grass
My lungs have been filled with hydrocarbons
I can't taste the pure sweetness of spring grass
My mouth has been fouled by cigarettes, saccharine and
whiskey
I can't touch the coarse softness of grass
My parks are gone
My hills are gone
My fields are gone
My people have covered them with asphalt and concrete
and are gone




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