and then you decide not to make tea after all.
The water came from the tap, to the tap from groundwater,
and/or from the Colorado River, the natural gas
from hydrocarbon reservoirs reached by a process
I do not understand. Electricity brightens the kitchen.
In light of that example, take airplanes in the sky.
I noticed while walking the dog they point the direction
they're heading, like an arrow saying that way.
Nothing, I know, so far is revelation to me, to you,
but the suggestion the planes over my house made
seemed at that instant new, poetic even, if less so now,
because my dog points in the direction she's heading, as do I
while walking next to her. Everything points in the direction
it's heading, is what I'm saying--drills dropping into shale,
trucks bringing drills and men to work the rigs, canals
in the Owens Valley, each depressed key on a keyboard,
all used or wasted heat and water, a neatly made bed.