Did you know that pigs can never see the sky?
They’ve never known a sunrise,
Full moon, blood moon, shooting stars
All lost on pigs.
For even while lying on their sides
Caked in clay
They can never see the sky
They don’t know for certain that tomorrow
Is tonight’s sunset rimmed in
crimson and maroon smoke from far away wildfires
It’s a fault in the setting of their eyes
On too wide heads
They only know that there is sky
by its reflection in mucky water
So perhaps that’s why they don’t want so much
I’ve wondered about myself
Do I look up to see the sky?
Except for the times
Floating on my mat in my tiny backyard baby pool
Searching for UFOs
I’ve flown but I didn’t care for it
Enough to ask for wings.
Perhaps we all decide choose
To live in our mud of choice
Even one eye
From simple truth of earth
To simple truth of stratosphere