It's So Same

The green bus is white
and runs on money.
It catapillar crawls
a winding track
through the homes
of our petty
nobility
to the bank
and the jail.
It's so same.
I am a rabbit
covered in soot
with
a cigar box banjo
and a book of jokes
I can't read.
Every morning,
I come up from
the rabbit hole
and take my seat
on the express
to the ant hill.
It's so same.
They hold their noses
and stare.
The muffled whispers
of groaning grown ups,
younger
and older
translated from
a queen's english
to rabbit
sing fascinated disgust.
I'm sorry everybody.
My parents were human,
this I swear.
I am this way
because I've
never done
a good thing right.
We ride along
the currencied rapids
to the mill.
It's so same.
Half of this town
can buy me,
sell me,
skin and eat me
before they're
toilet trained.
What difference
does anything make?
A rabbit is not
predator.
A rabbit is prey.
It's so same.