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I flew from one end of the Atlantic to another, and the earth took its index finger pointing to things saying

there, that is your mother.

Or there, that is your father, your brother, your house on the corner of a broken stop sign and a liquor store,

now in between two churches, one methodist, one catholic. two blocks in front of you rita is shooting her

first dose of heroine; there, there,

Up, Look, The Big Fiery Sphere - i say that is the sun, and

Down, Look: and this is the mud, the dirt, the grit, the worm that will never leave you, not even when you die and rot;

so shake their sweaty hands and befriend them.

and i nodded to it, and i nodded to it, and i am still nodding to it

though now my neck is beginning to hurt and i wonder

who that is that hides behind the clouds -
and courts me in my dreams.

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