the transplant relationship

driven from the boonies,

from the sticks,

from the countryside &

into the heart of the cities

where the pulse thumps against the brain

soothing the heart simultaneously with the

guaranteed promise of

an infinite energy &

an infinite wealth of interesting things to

sink one’s teeth into,

the mouse takes off their overalls,

throwing on the noir garb to blend in with those

contentedly covered in pollution---

and the country mouse, s/he does her/best

to breathe above the water

looking for a job without city experience

flexing irrelevant college degrees in the face of

those who have seen & heard it all &

when finally coming upon something that will

barely pay anything,

of which s/he is highly underqualified,

s/he bows to the overwhelming will of the

behemoth &

lives to reap the benefits of being at the

center of the heartbeat

for one more minute---

but the transplant, s/he grows weary,

because the living costs go up

but no one ever offers more to her/him &

as new blood from all over the world pumps in,

s/he begins to forget why s/he came here in the first place,

doing all that s/he can to stay breathing above the water,

getting a second job to supplement the worthless first one &

living hand to mouth,

hand to mouth,

hand to mouth,

while the college loans come knocking at the door

(and they don’t give a s**t how hip ya think ya are) &

s/he ain’t getting any younger---

the water begins to flood in the mouth as the

arms begin to flail,

gasping ensues,

the water gets into the lungs &

the city laughs in the face of the little mouse on her/his last leg, saying,

“this place ain’t big enough for the both of us.”