We had to be there at our moms’ art show
It’s okay sitting around with Ed
But it gets kind of boring
Then the parking-lot attendant got a Coke in a bottle
For his break
Drank it down in fifteen minutes and left it out on the picnic table out front
I threw a rock at it and missed
Ed threw a rock at it and missed
I threw a rock at it and missed
Ed threw a rock at it and missed
I threw a rock at it and smashed it into at least about fifty big and little pieces
I laughed
Ed laughed
Then we went inside
Found a trashcan
And picked up the pieces
And dropped them in
Years later I was still thinking about it
Wondering if we missed a piece
Even just a little piece
And someone sat down on it
Because just a few weeks later
I’d learn that it’s just the littlest things
(That can cut the deepest)

I aim my camera at the cage
wondering where the challenge ran off to
as the creature stands helplessly
like a lightweight squaring off against a circling heavyweight

A baby girl smiles
As a young girl scowls and a
Crone grins circling through

I wandered through an empty village
Or amid the litter of a debauched celebration (for a triumph that was only poses)
And then (as a parenthesis between my lonely stumblings) before my visage
Was a mother cultivating three children as a gardener tends his roses
She spotted me, stopped me, and said,
“Stranger, all I ask is that if you find the home of a kindly settler
Who offers you a bed
Or find a summit that shows all the land’s dangers and comforts like a peddler,
Please make a sign or some kind of mark to indicate so,
For one day my children will be walking your lonely trail.”
I told her that if I was lucky enough to find such I would somehow let them know
“I wish you Godspeed in the hope you will not fail.”
“And for showing such kindness to a homeless wanderer I thank you.”
I walked on and she did not watch after me as I disappeared into the new

Stupid
Lazy
Slow
Confused
Incompetent
That’s what you want to call me, don’t you
She said with a mouth that sounded as if it wasn’t accustomed to such aggression

Hungry
Tired
Scared
Unsure
But
Persistent
That’s what I want to call you, I said
With a mouth that sounded as if it wasn’t accustomed to such sympathy

It was a Monday in November 1971
A cloudy afternoon
When the school sent me and another kid out to find work
As part of our vocational-ed class

My companion said, Hey, let's go to Louie's
So we wandered way down near downtown
And I was happy to find myself in an apartment rented by two kids
The first time I had been in a place emancipated from adult suzerainty

We didn't do much
Just listened to albums
Until the evening finally lazed in
And I had to get back on the highway and hitchhike back alone
(I was surprised to learn my companion lived in that far-flung area where we had wandered)

A grim thirtyish woman picked me up
Told me she was going to a job interview
Then she said, "Nah, I'm not going to that interview.
I don't want that job."

So she dropped me off
And made a U-turn

I meet a lot of people
Who talk about the books they read
Mentioning titles that impress me
Praising authors beyond my degraded tastes

Yet I never run into these avid readers
At the bookstore I frequent
At the library branch I visit once a week
Hoping nonetheless

For that meeting cute
When I cinematically place my hand
on that book I've been eager to read
And she puts her hand above mine

And I say Go on -- you check it out
I'll get it when you're finished
Even though I know and she knows
That she plans to never return it