Two rows of trees
lined up perfectly
Suggest pillars of an imaginary hall
Down the concrete path
a set of stairs leads down to the flood level
Further on
and on either side
There are more trees
some stripped bare of foliage
some green all year
and some blossoming
All surrounded by concrete
and well-watered and well-mowed grass
Out past the entrance
and the road
There is a field
with green grass
and some flowers
here and there
Only a few buildings can be seen
in that direction
Of course
on the left
There is the valley's make-believe metropolis
and on the the right
There's the cramped town called
Elk Grove
But nonetheless
out there in the distance
in that place that was so unimaginably far away
before the train and the automobile
Where the sky touches the earth
There are the mountains
topped with that mysterious white dust
And filled up with that ancient holiness
Just like the plains
The old grasslands
that are almost a desert sometimes
and are still there
and always will be
Even if they are hidden
by the cities and roads and farms and sprinklers
But they are no holier
than the thousands that have built
this artificial landscape
It is really a miracle to pass so many in any given day
and a tragedy that we think nothing of it
They are just as mismatched as the fields and pavement
People of all races and creeds from every corner of the globe
all caught up in this weird, chaotic game called civilization
It is a blessing that my classmate wears a turban
because if he were too like me on the outised
how could I grasp just how strange and alien he really is?
It is a blessing to have a Muslim for a classmate
because if I never came so close to him
how could I understand how similar we are?
crap
The bus is already here
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