Not suitable for us
Or the neighborhood we must accustom to
Because they are prone to troubles
Knee or chest-high
Or even beyond our heights.
Below 20 meters is cutting it close –
Who knows how soon the oceans will rise
Or how fast the city is sinking?
Wading is a skill that I’m not willing
To learn with fearful muscles and bones.
Look. There’s a house waiting for us
Between the city and a sly volcano –
70 meters above. That should do well
Quite nice to keep the roof over our heads.
We’re made smarter now by what we’ve lost,
Much wiser, more protective of the spares that’s left,
More wary of the world and what its winds might bring.
We should never have been too trusting.
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