We're glimpsing the divide
These Christmas days of '05
Watching children freeze to death
In Pakistan, where their world collapsed
Just like the Anasazi, I imagine
Watching the Colorado trickle mud, and
Climbing out a long goodbye to their beautiful
Rocks. The criminal agriculture
As tempting as the nicest deep sweet hit,
Foots poetry and music and all art
If not pure love itself--that would be too cruel.
And the fearful tribal leader on the screen
Hands jerking, makes his case for what he does
Protecting us all from some barbarian's suicide attack
By sprinkles of bitter secret indiscretions:
Better some Arabian pain, or yours, than
Some jerked on blue dress, to come down to it.
And all for a bit more time, to sing a song
To poetize or watch the NFL or buy a new doodah
While the Yankee Dollah still has
Meaning. Because the polar bears are
Drowning even as we natter on and on,
As brave as Himalayan children with their feet in rags.
Yet have you noticed that the apples
Are as beautiful as they have ever been.
How is it possible? Only whisper that seditious question
As we are informed: they listen.
--Bill Hicks, 12/21/05 (photo courtesy of www.terhuneorchards.com)