Glancing over my seat
I have the perfect view
of everyone
headed somewhere.
I look outside my window
and see that everything
has been claimed -
perfect squares of ownership
wrapped around the finest
hills of fur,
and I wonder what everyone
that's headed somewhere
thinks there's left to claim.
Fools.
They are all fools looking to
rewrite the rewritten history
of the fools before us.
I fly over the ocean and think:
There. That's mine. Now, how
do I create a square in the
Pacific?
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Peter