and I think,  How easy it is to forget

the animal of us–
flying by hillscapes at 60 miles an hour
in machines we built 
from machines we built. 

From the safety of right here, we watch
the world turn like a lock
in a key. We see it, wait
for it all to open for us.

How easy it is to own
our feelings. Like borders,
like possession, it is as temporary
as day and night. All we have

are stories, each other, this world of brown and blue,
and its temporary greening. It’s so beautiful,
in theory, that all of it is our own. We forget
we all deserve its space, so we treat it like it’s ours

alone, this life we share.