the black man
operates garbage truck
the white man
trims his own leaves
i smoke
one cigarette and
watch the boy
polishing in the morning
his own mercedes
near the ocean.
Gardener and garden.-- Out of damp and gloomy days, out of solitude, out of loveless words directed at us, conclusions grow up in us like fungus: one morning they are there, we know not how, and they gaze upon us, morose and gray. Woe to the thinker who is not the gardener but only the soil of the plants that grow in him!
from Nietzsche's Daybreak, s. 382, R.J. Hollingdale transl
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