Seen from a distance

this so-called civilization

of ours must look pretty

civilized indeed: those

altitudinous, mirrored

skyscrapers reaching

ever skyward in man’s

eternal effort to dry

hump the hell

out of heaven.

 

But the closer you get

to street-level

the dryer the wet

dream gets.  You’ve

seen and heard it

all before: tired

and defeated

human beings

looking more

like Chinese

street cats than

those fabled

creations

stationed half-

way between

the beasts and

angels those

medieval scribes

swore that we are.

 

Then there’s

the brutal crime

bloodying our

intention-paved

streets, crimes

most cavemen

would cringe

to commit, most

of which aren’t

televised. So what

does modernity

and technology mean?

Is each new invention

and glimmering

building another

rung on a ladder

taking us closer to

the angels; or are

we like Chinese

street cats, a species

born in domestication,

coddled and sometimes

fed for a while, then

destined to be

abandoned by our

masters to roam

hungry and broken

among the ruins

of towering

dreams?

 

— Fyodor Bukowski, author of Mail-Order Annie. Please buy the book. I take care of a lot of cats.

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