I walk in nature where I am an alien,
my clothes, my thoughts are fabricated
by chemicals and other people’s smart ideas.
Nature never made the words such as I think.
Unisono the crow hacks in my spine.
I am the stranger in the forest, or the long-lost child.
And even treading her on careful clean bare feet,
the earth resents my being here and sends me spiders.
We are not one with trees and birds,
only observers of how life would be
had we not dwelled from Adam’s garden,
had we not found a way out of this murder scene in green.