writing prompt 7-5-07: "feet are the new face"

ironically
we can finally see
where we've been
where we're going
and standing still
where we wait

finally my feet face
a concrete reality
our world is grey
covered in sheet slabs

our forests are the tree circle medians
the trees pitiful and choking
on fumes and grit from fuel
falling heavy in the air

dirt is something you buy in a bag
to fill a planter box
a box you fill with baby's breath
because dry: it's still beautiful

my feet face a sort of callous sadness
when they try to recall cool grass
beneath them

this
is the future our feet will witness.