Tunnel vision

We must never be
more than one trait
to each other:

you, the messiah
on my glass-painted soul

and I, the lowlife
who has sinned
against herself
one too many times.

No wonder
the thought that we might
ever hold hands

sitting together
on the same
creaky mood swing

is a magnitude 10 earthquake
in your belief system

and no scientist
has ever dared
step on the toes
of this tunnel vision
and shake it that much

to remind
we are all equal

made of stardust
and reciprocity

whether or not
our carefully-built megalopoli
crumble underneath our feet
with sheer horror

at letting nature run its course.