Full Bale

A shade rides an ass.
Who does that these days?
We drive our own cars,
Those the banks loaned us.
We crowd skies in jets.

A fool rides a goat.
Who’s so small these days?
We’d snap a goat’s spine.
We float on armed chairs,
Point at what we want.

Once kings and lords rode
Through the crowds on thrones.
Now the great and rich
Ride bikes in the clouds,
Breathe air in the waves.

The poor climb on wheels
That roar and belch, carts
That crush lives on curves.
Oh to be back then,
When the sage just walked,

Sings the fool who can’t
Walk, can’t ride beasts, can’t
Go back, would die. Shades
Toss bright grass in wind.
Sage, stay in, stay in.