No one knows below the shell

We don’t live there

Instead confusing our senses

For what is the real real.

The green and wind

And perfumed forests

Hamlets and white fences

And pretty things and money

Stickers and beer

Billboards and bikinis

And hospitals and tire swings

They are all, only the beginning

Or maybe a marker on the journey.

No one knows beneath the shell

We do not live there

I think we forget we’re seeds

And if we don’t forget

I think we might be using too much

Miracle Grow.