Something deep inside us
demands the unities.
I've found a grotto, winding back
behind a public park,
mossgrown sidewalk curving
along an ivy-covered, wooded creek.
For all I know,
this could be virgin jungle.
My mind begins to quiet down,
to come in for a landing
until a plastic bag,
a strip of cellophane, and a section
of newspaper, strewn along a hollow
slam me back.
They don't belong,
they don't belong!
Max Reif