DESCRIPTION:
Telescope sees me dashing through
The maple-broken evening sun.
An engine from afar;
Like the thrumming of my
Sparrow heart,
I can hear him coming.
Skin and bone rolling in the dust,
Stops along the roadside weeds.
I see him setting down;
Hands of mercy lift me
From the ground----give me what I
Needed.

Bottle fly, contemplating glass,
Crawls along the cracked-salt rim.
The driver's side reflects,
Sees me here and in this
Way again;
Will I be forgiven?
Temple Cone sees me sitting there,
Washed out in the bright sunshine,
Looked for a friend;
That's the way he saw me
Way back when, and I won't
Deny it.

(some nonsense....)

Am I here? Am I really here?
Is it really fair to be
Living through the words
Of the one who saw me
At my worst when I hadn't
Seen it?