Ok, Here We Are

You spent a day as a guest
Of someone you’ll never meet
With a mansion near the coast.
Or, you’re pretty sure you did.
You could have been daydreaming.

The lawn was so extensive,
It felt like a city park—
You sat where you could
Follow the shade easily
Around an enormous trunk,

Spiral shell to trace the day.
Someone owns this, you whispered
To yourself while noticing
How skillfully the trees embraced
The variations in the light.

What is ownership, exactly? you asked
Yourself for the thousandth time.
You feel you’ve never felt it,
The sense that someone or something
Really, wholly belonged to you.

Privilege and provision, sure,
Those you can sense as plenteous,
Abundant piles of supplies.
Consumption you comprehend
In your bones, your hungry bones,

But ownership? Once you stood
Beside a scuffed compact car,
Holding a slip of paper
Indicating ownership.
What did you feel? Just okay.