As if bees are known for their pride.

But what's so great about horses? They're stuck

on the earth except when they jump,

but even then they're not bees.

But is there anything we value so highly

as streetlights, which, unlike bees,

watch over us with their swan-like

necks and open their eyes at the right time

every night? The answer is lonely

and whoever among us is brave enough
to find it will come home to a family

that won't even look us in the eyes.

2

But what's so great about eye contact?

As if a horse knows a newspaper

when he sees it. Streetlights don't live

in hives; they're not more afraid
of us than we are, fortified by stingers and swarms.

Bees don't brighten the alleyways

in which we commit our most heinous crimes

to keep things moving and fill

the papers with news. Why don't we have

a holiday to recognize the alleyways?
The answer is lonely and whoever

among us is brave will have nowhere to jump.

3

Why don't we sing a song that makes

the bees proud? What's so great

about desolate meadows? The answer

is lonely. Why don't we come home

and look at our family? Why don't we

designate an hour to brag about news?

What's so great about the way the papers

blow through alleyways in the evening

like deflated rats? As if pride could

brighten the meadows at night. Whoever

among us is brave enough to forgive

a family gets to make eyes with a lonely horse.

4

As if the answer is flowers. As if

we could gather streetlights

in a bouquet from the alleyways

and brighten family after

beekeeping family. But what's so

great about seeing the truth?

Beneath every meadow is the Earth's

molten core, red and hot as an evil eye.

Why don't we blow through the streets

at night? The answer is lonely, even

if a horse knows the way home.

What's so great about being brave?