20/20 Vision
The elevator stopped working
so I took the stairs.
One two infinity, I suppose
if I had counted to keep
my thoughts from the top
floor where I live
with a view of all the other
top floors and smokestacks
and black hills’ crests
in between like slag heaps
piling up year after year.
And even when the sun
shines after two straight
days
of rain, you can never really
make out whether or not
it really is coal mine refuse
or a thousand trees full
with wildlife and picnics.
A dismal beginning and an ugly middle, but at least the poem ends with ambiguous optimism. Maybe that's the best we can hope for in the midst of war, terrorism, bigotry, and climate change?
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