Not So Simplicity

On the day that you realize

not all white, American, once-where-Buddhists

understand

that all beings are one

because they hate roaches

you will also hear of free ranging Jersey cows

in Georgia

eating out of mother’s flower bed

milk so fatty the skim can be butter simply

seal in a jar and let the kids make a game

of rolling it back and forth across the floor

as the farm van climbs the hill at the

end of the workday, filled with fall

conversations

the smell of deep soil and fresh carrots

you will also see the dirt drying to a grey powder across

your hands, showing well the lines where

the skin prunes

curling in upon itself after

tugging all day

at the earth

in the dream worthy blues

of your darkened bedroom

you will tell your wife that she

never has and never will understand you

completely

which is true

for everyone but God

though

you don’t have to tell her that way