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Suppertime in the city, lozenges float lazily.
People gawk and stare at clouds in the air.
Each passing within their grasp,

but feeling apart from stance.
It's you starchild, you've been a cloud
and a rock and maybe a hawk
that fed some barley
that fed some brewer
from whom you bought a bottle with a second dollar.
Life and death are but a soapstone
in the maker's hands.
They can end up a phone to call to your soul,
but abused
can fubu you seven-fold.
So stop that sewage
stop the pollution
plant a spruce tree
and get with the solution.
Spend some time thinking ecologically.
And remember, we have only
one earth to live.