I am not my job.
I am not my net worth.
I am not a test score.
I am not my address.

You are not your sex.
You are not your faith.
You are not your skin.
You are not your purchasing power.

I am not my age.
I am not a brand.
I am not a tax bracket.

We are not labor.
We are not the market.
We are not assets.

Don’t check all the boxes that apply.

The deer in the forest does not ask its worth.
I am original. Whole. Unique. Kindred.

I am not looking for your price tag.
I am not looking for your label or your part number.
I am looking at you. 



a journey within a journey
snakes a path
bearing hopefuls
each with their own story
making new stories

the slow arduous ascent
through the hills
the frenzied rocking passage of night
some sleep through the dream
the rhythmic loping along the plains
paced by antelope
and small towns
    with mysteries of their own
meals come and go
the clock moves from hands to neonesque dots

while these two fall in love
that one fights their tears
this one silently observes everyone around them,

a wheeled assembly of windowed boxes
faces peering out
watching the moon and the stars
or bent asleep over a book
while the brute engine yanks them along through their lives
they live it out
moving always moving
sometimes noticing the heaving lurches of power
but mostly just quietly jostled, unaware,
acquiescent of the ticket they hold
it’s just a ticket, after all