Moles
August 25, 2009
The outside world is far away though only feet outside these walls
Beaming and hot with the flashes of passing cars
Blowing trees, rising suns
Sweet and green with the smell of lawns baking in the afternoon
As running shoes clump softly by on stained pavement
A haze of smog drifts in from the buzzing freeway and the churning seaport downtown with its oil tankers and banana boats and cruise ships.
I am here in the dark
Brooding, clicking and pointing, scratching and scrabbling
In my box-shaped cube
An abstract concept to the glaring outside world
A mole in a dark burrow
Chewing on roots
Plotting and planning forays into the world
For choice nuts, juicy bugs, perhaps an apple core
Blinking black shiny eyes, passing time
Sending out furtive calls, grunts and squeaks
To the others
As we scurry and coil in these lonely dens
What will become of us at the end of this darkness?
Will we halt and freeze under the glare of all the relentless light and boundless space?
Will we be hypnotized mid-stride
Crushed like possums on the median?
We must pounce and spring with no hesitation,
run with determination,
alert with our wild tails waving
at the very moment the light hits our faces.
