Adam's Complain
Some people,
no matter what you give them,
still want the moon.
The bread,
the salt,
white meat and dark,
still hungry.
The marriage bed and the cradle,
still empty arms.
You give them land, their own earth
under their feet
still they take to the roads.
And water: dig them the deepest
well, still it's not deep enough
to drink the moon from.
