We recite trivialities
modeled immemorial by
those who knew more
(so we’re never to know how much we held,
A controlled burn of the world’s wilderness,
man-designed to foster and enrich
with small grasps of
this bit, newsprint,
this thermometer reading,
this pass made by a man to none of us.
You ask as if taking a measurement,
I answer with pickets
I gently tack up.
We all have such fence expectancy.
Just as I never fully ask,
you never fully answer me.
This polite separation, of
leaves us both with view reduced,
and our real remarks go unused.
Our civility, scorched earth policy.