I Had A Rich Friend Once

I met her in Alcoholics Anonymous. Our relationship was talking about her kitchen remodelling. I swear she remodeled her kitchen for five years - know what I mean? We live in a rich country. There are so many vacations, and the long campaigns of grandparents' assisted living and niece's graduations, therapies and Landmark, and weddings, weddings, weddings... There is a de-politicized dedication to all the domesticity that money can buy. These rituals fill out the year completely, but it's denial, isn't it. We assume that bodies won't be floating in our windows, that there will always be nature going on, and the poor will find a way. 

What do I do with this feeling, this beat of justice I feel when I'm walking down the street? It's the banner drop in the middle of an orgasm. It's the seedling of Wangari Maathi. It's when a stranger marches out of a crowd, holds my head and says, "Keep doing what you're doing." The beat of justice is the heartbeat of the Earth. I can stop everything I'm doing and feel that beat. I'm an angel-zombie for the idea of this planet, the idea that life will grow like weeds through the crack in the highway of fear. Ban Glyphosates! Earthalujah!