A sign outside of Whole Foods reads, “Praise the bumblebee!”

Though she gives you honey for your bread,

you only welcome that part of her into your home.

The rest of her you swat aside with a rolled magazine in indifferent hands

and send your children to bed, bellies and minds filled,

not worrying about whether there’s enough heat.

You find easy comfort in this heat

when outside, frozen petals are unyielding to the bees.

For some reason, there’s no incorrectness in your philosophy

when there’s no way to provide that “daily bread,”

when a box becomes a home

where I can reach all four sides when I stretch out my hands.

Forests and storefronts alike have been swept aside for your home.

And inside there’s conditioned air, and you, at least, can escape the heat.

All of this done, with nothing but clean hands,

and there’s clearly nowhere else you could possibly be

to raise your kids and break your bread,

half of which actually goes straight to a landfill.

Yet you’re somehow still not fulfilled?

So you break more ground and build a second home

(another place to store all that bread)

and burn holes in the ozone with your gas and heat.

The local Pottery Barn thinks of you as a busy little bee,

but there are, in truth, few lines on your pampered hands.

Of course, there’s no physical blood on those hands,

but thousands starve when your glass is at least half-full.

The wealthy American Dreamer everyone strives to be

is really just a domestic terrorist working from home.

While others stare down a pistol and recoil from the heat

just for stealing an 89 cent loaf of bread.

Meanwhile, you are in the gluten-free aisle looking for whole grain bread.

Only rich people have allergies: too much time on their hands,

a roof over their head, Vuittons on their feet, and enough money to turn up the heat.

Bankrolling in green like a leaf absorbs chlorophyll,

all with a plaque on the front door that proclaims, “God Bless this Home.”

There are many places I would rather be.

So you walk by the sign honoring the bumblebee

in search of the “all-natural” but somehow “sugar-free” version to take home