Standing here
The old man said to me:
“Long before these crowded streets
Here stood my dreaming tree” (Dave Matthews and Stephan Lessard-Before these Crowded Streets, 1998)

I walked into the big box store just to get a few things. My wife and son in tow. We were stopped at the door as our member id did not have a picture, not so, not so. TiF’s, tax breaks and credits built this box where a tree once stood, where oh where is their poor wood.

Below it he would sit
For hours at a time
Now progress takes away
What forever took to find

Just needed five things and my wife needed a few more. We search and search while battling customer traffic. They don’t seem to be aware of anyone around them “is this a tragic comic?” I say excuse me… I get chewed out for being rude… how is this lack of choice progress when I have to deal with the prude?

And now he’s falling hard
And feels the falling dark
How he longs to be
Beneath his dreaming tree

The chaos overwhelms, anxiety falls over me, we all meet in the check out aisle, and my wife says to thee. “Go to the car, you are looking overwhelmed.” I broke out in a brisk walk crossing back and forth and finally made it to the door like I had won some sport.

Conquered fear to climb
The moment froze in time
When the girl who first he kissed
Promised him she’d be his

I made it to the car in the parking lot maze. I ease into the seat and force myself to breathe the pollution and haze. What seems like seconds was actually eight minutes more, as my wife and son open the trunk door. This box store is crazy, oh how I abhor.

Remembered Mother’s words
There beneath the tree:
“No matter what the world
You’ll always be my baby”

Time to eat, we all go off for lunch. Seven blocks we travel, twelve minutes we unravel. A chicken place full of spice, oh please god let’s this be nice. We are all feeling…. Like we are reeling… in some simulation… ripe for immolation…

Mommy, come quick
The dreaming tree has died
Can’t find my way home
I have no place to hide
The dreaming tree has died

We stumble in the door and order our food for dining. We are hoping the chicken will warm our hearts lining. The flavor is lacking and it makes us feel less smart. Thirty-five dollars we spent on this meal in another TiF’d lot. How many trees have died for this progress one so dreamed….

Oh, have you no pity?
This thing I do
I do not deny it
All through this smile

We left for our next errand, going through the motion. Oh how great capitalism is on this seasonal commotion. It sucks the life from one’s eyes as we seek meaning in the exercise. We drive East and then South hoping the next stop places a smile on our mouth.

From the start
She knew she had it made
Easy up ’til then
For sure she’d make the grade

My wife’s favorite plant and garden store, a local business we implore. We walk the aisles dazed and confused with the seven hundred lighted trees ready to blow the fuse. She darts left and my son and I dart right. We spy a highland cow, a goat, and an alpaca but where on earth is the guy dressed as santa?

Adorers came in hordes
To lay down in her way
She gave it all she had
And treasures slowly faded

There’s a train pulling children, parents laughing and carrying on. The loads of poinsettia’s just meander on and on. My wife buys two plants, they are both forty percent off. Oh thank god this mission is almost over as I turn my head to cough.

She thinks when she was small
There on her father’s knee
How he had promised her:
“You’ll always be my baby”

My wife and son go into the grocery store to get a ham for a family meal. I drop them at the door and wonder if there is a nearby parking spot to steal. I find a parking spot just three blocks away. The spot is close to a tree that lists to the right. That poor thing is not a good sight. What wounds it must have the dreams lost… it’s so sad…

Daddy, come quick
The dreaming tree has died
I can’t find my way home
There is no place to hide
The dreaming tree has died

I receive a text, we are heading out the door. I shift into gear and hit the pedal to the floor. We got a clearing in the traffic to load our wares. Then off like lightning with just moments to spare. Our mission has ended we are heading for home… is our dreaming tree still standing in the loam?

Will you not talk?
Can you take pity?
I don’t ask for much
Won’t you speak, please?

We made it home and unloaded our purchases… The silence of the moment not lost on our ears. On the last trip in I looked at the park to our East. I took in a deep breath of pine fresh air. Knowing my residence is far from the big boxes over there. For every dreaming tree cut down in capitalist progress, I yearn for a universe of less, I digress. These things we seem to need are all in service to someone else’s greed.

Take me back
Take me back
Take me back
Take me back
Save me, please

My sincerest thanks to the Dave Matthews Band.