The Reality and the Grass

thanks to Marcel B.


The day moon says “fuck you” when it rises

With the brick in the sun at 4:00--

It wasn’t his idea.

The grey sky over Philadelphia just wants to be left alone.

He didn’t know about the Doritos, and the train station,

And the peeling paint.

The six men playing volleyball didn’t think

They’d ever see beige cashmere

But things happen, you know?

The words “crime rate” had no meaning to the grass

But he’d read Kant, and Nietzsche, and Freud,

So he had a sense of humor about it all,

About reality.


This poem is about: 
Our world


Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741