Pale and slightly sticky

is the ground beneath my feet.

Creatures swarm around me,

with whom I barely relate.

 

There is a cold season, and

a warmer one, smells like springtime.

No, they’re not seasons but

rather sectors or states.

 

The society, here, works

within a somewhat familiar hierarchy.

With servers and the served,

prejudices ruling the day.

 

As I check out, I glance,

once more, at this consuming universe.

Despite my loathing, I’ll be back

for more groceries.