stack chips (SOC)

In a heaven that is not here

This dream becomes a consumptive reality

Like thirsty plants reaching skyward to drink in the light
As their humanity seeps out through the cracks
I love the people
But hate the crowd

Funny, sarcastic, loving and caring

they shuffle through the rivers of light,

frustrated with the mass they occupy

in a world of meaningful numbers and paper

we find solace in each other

as though stacking chips will grant us freedom from ourselves

the helicopters cut sky with a river of sound that never ceases

while below we huddle together under a cloud of dirty jokes that celebrate the absurdity of our being that penetrates everything around us

learning never to fear that which is out of your control

where fear is the mind-killer in a place where it is so important to keep your head