I’m afraid and I’m depressed
As if hiding in a bunker after forsaking my friends
I frankly envy your stalwart guardianship

For you were there again today little phoebe
And well might you protest that you are not the same
That I encountered years ago in this my own backyard

But the glower I beheld this passing morning
Was witnessed in ancient days by mineowner and janitor
The same you fixed upon locomotive and data center

Back then I was hanging laundry on the line innocuous task
After seething in chemicals in the electromechanical machine
The cottons and the polyesters with their sweat dirt and dung

Feeling rather superior for declining to employ
The tumble dryer which still stood ready for rainy days
And enjoying the suburban breeze and sun and scents

And you flew full into my face
Beating your wings ferociously as if to claw my eyes
Luckily defended behind my spectacles

And for days thereafter you scowlingly perched
Upon side mirror fencepost and patio furniture
And the selfsame plastic chair as this morning

And this morning you also perched on one bamboo log
Cut to regulation size and protruding like its brethren
From the garbage can lacking one of its handles

For I had sallied forth armed with reciprocating saw
And machete and big paper bags from The Home Depot
And Levis and Toyota adjustable cap and T from a volunteer event

To do battle against the patch of bamboo
Which in its subterfuge sends rhizomes afar
And cull the standing dead

And like a seaman I heavehoed a great vine of wisteria
As if hoisting the sail on a voyage to new land
New to me and my governors

Wisteria like bamboo a hardy exotic
Irrepressible having been imported as decoration
Flowers clustered like grapes but empty and dry

And as I coiled the line I saw you
And I knew that like a colonial adventurer
I had disturbed your home

And I reached for a bag resting on the chair
Beneath your unwavering gaze and you gave no ground
Until my hand was close enough to touch you

And you flew away returning to the bamboo and invisibility
But when I looked up there you were again
Having resumed your post on the barrel and the logs

And bourgeois life is an iron cage
Not alone for fat beneficiaries like me
But for all who drudge in meek obeisance

For we have dulled our human brains so versatile and strong
And cloyed with sugar salt and fat
And sports and trends and media media media media media

The puppet shows
The puppet armies
The puppet regimes