never / in a million years

My LEED-certified bedroom walls
will have crumb-
led in earthquakes and entropy,
giant pothos play
to reconstruct neighbouring high-
rises, a mammal-descendent take my place
won’t see my city’s land-
mark 101 tower,
not for lack of visual receptors,
but for the intervening years
and hills, however eroded, where taller,
more climate-suitable trees will have re-
placed the betel nut palms
whose shallow roots betray
the lush volcanic landscape
of what is now,
then will have once been
Taipei,
un- / re-named by our successors
—not heirs, for I hope they’ve out-
grown our greed,
the cruelty to own property;
the hubris to believe it.