Seed, what on earth’s got into you?
There you go rooting and taking off
In the most ridiculous
Of surroundings—say jammed
Between some blooming sheer-
Rock face or surfacing through
A sea of noxious black
Asphalt—never where
I so lovingly sow you,
Like this nursery bed here.
You know what?
I think I’ll stop being so
Goddamn caring—
From now on, it’s every man
For himself, like it or not.