Poetry : the Environment - Mario Petrucci

DONKEYS
The short-term view was a four-stroke fool –
now the car’s extinct the mule must rule.
For having squandered that liquid sun
it’s back to a horsepower precisely of one
where filling up means buckets and attention to dung.
The kind of Ferrari you get down our way
does nought to sixty kilometres (per day)
on two bales of hay. We made for our backs
a cross like the donkey’s – but painted black.
Well. If this is entropy then its laws are an ass
that ekes us through the eye of the Energy Pass.
Down empty freeways our donkeys now plod –
they knew all the while. Hence that asinine smile –
the endless nod.
POEM 7 Oil: some lighter relief…
© Mario Petrucci 2008