Here where all the traffic meets angry
the droning noise demanding my attention pounds
& manners must be spun out to the rim,
cursed ferocious & dodging the bites of dogs
beaten frayed & closest to the phone
leery betrayed & under the hood of my car
overdrawn forbidden & snowed in for the winter
unannounced unrewarded unremarked in my own back yard
breathing & rising, breathing & falling
dreaming in the time when my sleep should be
& sleeping in my dreams, I am.
& you are never here.
I never see you here.
You, of all people, are never, ever here.
But then, if the morning comes w/ coffee & bacon
& the music of one guitar
& Irish whiskey poured out like pennies from a jar
w/ the rain coming & going,
there easy unbridled & healing in a natural way
silent agnostic & pain free after years of pain
American connected & naked in my own motel
anonymous essential & under the gun of my own choosing
bald-faced & game & teeming w/ nugatory rhythms
& hungry & alert & lively as a red-footed lizard am I.
& there you are.
So I see.
It is you, of all people, there you are.
You are there.
