Thursday, July 7, 2016


We let the natives live among us,
odd little things with too-big eyes,
when it is convenient, we do,
we treat them like weeds with pretty flowers:
they let them live by the roadside,
root them out if they are in the way.

It's not like they're human,
their language is hardly such,
their dwellings no more than hollow logs or bramble thickets,
they sing to their young,
I am sure birds do that.

Studying them is not approved,
we really don't want to know more about them,
and they are coming to want
as little to do with us as possible.

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