The Domestication of an Albatross

There are spaces for family tides among the ashtrays and mobile debt
Like sparrows in the driveway where we dare not see the bear in the tree
We steal Elvis lighters on the high mountain where carnival condenses our winds
Like candles among the fireworks, we have demonstrated our constrained glory
Like fireflies scattering the input, there is rain that does not last in Norwegian plays

I am not a rock to be dismissed as a danger to society
I am not a temple to be spared from the blame of the holy one
I am a sunken ladder too scared to climb to the top, so I leave
Saving myself from a fall that will put me in the hospital again
Always having to convince others that I am able to compete in the race
Where freedom of thought is the final drafting line of the semblance of order

Here we are among the green high tides, never concerned for the waiting tomorrow
Never spared from the stomach of another square in the monopoly of life’s golden arches
I swear I am not a puddle to be stepped on, I am not a scattered wave to be passed through
I do have dignity, despite their inability to see it shine like the math of a junior graduate
I am the grass standing tall, where God did seed me, an unlikely fern near the doormat
An unlikely spacial task runner able to comprehend the excitement of the mass enclosure
And the guilty mass exposure for total arrays and grimaced tidal smoking days