When all machinery is failing we’ll compensate with our teeth. When we can trust the drugs or buildings, take the staples out of our feet. When all the trees are reaching for us, rooting up inside our bodies. If we run and hit a hurdle then we’ll just deer leap over. We stack bricks but walls don’t always mean a place to live. We’re earthworms dried on concrete, celebrating side streets. We’re brave enough. Taking our chances with centuries-old devices. Taking our chances with moments-old ideas. Strength enough to walk away from it. Smart enough to know I’m over it. Old enough to be concerned about health but young enough to know that I am well. (We can’t change this place the way it changes us. Our dream’s too big to break.) Let’s hope that this works out. This has got to work out.