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 shit 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.”