My Problem | Poem

It is that,
habitually,
my nature questions
how gum could fall—
accidentally or not—
from a man's mouth
into the urinal,
and why
tobacco pouches
exist at all.

The man
who cleans
the gum and debris
from this urine stand
has a better attitude
than mine. He must
lest his questioning
ruin his mind.

Yet you question not
why the bee stings,
why the bird sings.
This is their nature.

If this nature is mine,
then a better question:

What nature is Thine?