My Invisible Tree House

Everyday, it seems the sunset

Takes a little longer to

Wipe away the heat and dirt

And sweat earned from sunrise

To nightfall.



I walked the back pathway

Where the tourists do not dare

To tread, and the politicians

Deny exist. A man wrapped

In a blue tarp, moved subtly,

Vaguely giving away his position.



I stepped slowly, gingerly

Out of the dry, crackly grass

I was standing in, and moved

Silently through soft dirt

Away from the invisible bedroom

I had accidentally found.



I climbed a tree, meaning to sleep there.

The thick branches lay just right

For my body to rest comfortably

Without falling to the ground.



I had not purposely signed up for this.



The moon and sun went through their phases.

Everyday the streets

Were lined with reusable litter.



I lay in my invisible tree house

Dreaming of melted butter and hot, steaming loaves

Of brown bread.



I had water. And a little wine.



I did not fear the fall from branches

To ground.



I feared the whole tree would fall over,

And there would be no ground, no hard dirt,

To fall upon and catch my broken body.



And there would be no one to pick me up.



Because they all had fallen into the same deadly hole.

That is not a crack in the pavement,

But a layer over layer of quicksand

That slowly consumed the day and night,

The tides, the sun and moon, and the Earth

-Everything that had previously made us real.



I slept well, though

Dreaming of the butter and bread.



I have a big heart filled with love

And a generous nature.



It is just too bad many people do not

Agree with a charitable disposition

Even as their own society cracks and crumbles,

Tack and tumble, track and trundle.