I remember, as a child,
reading the book
about the little lost bird
wandering alone
asking the same question
to everything —
the dog
the cow
the boat
the airplane
the steam shovel:
“Are you my mother?”
I related to the bird then
as I do now, though I have
a different question
that I have always asked
that I continue to ask
the cow
the boat
the airplane
the phone
the dishwasher
the can of coca cola
the gas nozzle
the strip mall
the televangelist
the rock guitarist
the comic book
the archaeologist
the generative algorithm
the charcoal grill
the drone
the stock ticker
the office party
the teargas canister
the microwave burrito
the indoor plumbing
the monster truck
the fitness app
the container ship
the golf course
the karaoke
the classic literature
the native heritage museum
the vacuum cleaner
the taser
the B-movie
the cheap vodka
the used bookstore
the prescription painkiller
the garden center
the school funding cuts
the full parking garage
the hot dog
the missile silo
the mosh pit
the gangster rap
the sports announcer
the ATM
the credit card
the computer
I ask them all
again and again
like some broken
lost bird:
Are you my culture?
Are you my culture?
Are you my culture?