tragedy of the commons

the tragedy of the commons

is that we were born

too soon to learn

how to stop our birth

*

my mom is in love

with my dad and booze

at the same time and

one leads to another

though i forget which way

the direction lays

like a beast feasting

in roadkill after a night

where all things were possible

in the darkness

including meeting my dad

at a bar with a car

where they could go

away from here

following wherever their headlights went

and finding that they hit a dog

when the daylight bleeds

*

the club beats music into me

without me hearing much

because i’m zonked and too sensitive

and entranced in the soup

of bodies and booze

that hold onto each other for support

like a blanket in the warmth of winter

though there’s a girl with this guy

who keeps pulling her skirt down

while he keeps pulling it up

and i am too sensitive

so i say don’t you know you shouldn’t be doing that

and he says nothing because her skirt

is shorter now than before

and there is land to discover and colonize

and to drill for oils

though they may be his own

and i say the music’s too loud

and he looks at me and nods in agreement

for the dig-digging or for the night ahead

where hands will rest in dirt and death

of an animal aimless in a short pause

where the beats from before

and the bodies that washed on a wave

like beached whales

still move him

when he closes his eyes

avoiding the awaking sounds nearby

and the voices that said nothing

for fear of disturbing

the sensitivity of ears