When I hear the water rushing, carrying waste through the pipes,
And it’s the small dark hours still, and most are still in bed asleep,
A thought occurs, a shudder at the thought, that soon that rush
And gurgling echo will become a thund’ring roar through miles of pipe
As millions wake up and shower and drive to power breakfasts
In sleek cars whose massive mufflers dim a hellish roar that, if it could,
Would cleave the very sky.
We lift our eyes adoringly at human grandiosity
And worship our genius, while we ignore the wastes that flow
Down from our bodies into tubes. But were in not for saving pipes
And walled lakes where raw sewage rests, awaiting its timely release
Into our riverbeds, why then we would be forced to feel
A certain shy humility. We save our pride by using pipe,
Keeping all that out of sight, the body’s nasty turbulence,
Practicing willed ignorance.