I don't know why
my mind flies
through space and stars
to hit blinded satelites
in the hope of redirecting
itself to yours.
I don't know how
a homeless old man,
who only knows English,
picks up on the Arabic conversation
of ill will directed toward him
from across the crowded restaurant.
He begins to shake and scream and curse.
I don't know who is at fault for thinking of another
or if it matters at all.
Aug 17, 2012
Aug 17, 2012 at 9:31 PM UTC
I don't know why
my mind flies
through space and stars
to hit blinded satelites
in the hope of redirecting
itself to yours.
I don't know how
a homeless old man,
who only knows English,
picks up on the Arabic conversation
of ill will directed toward him
from across the crowded restaurant.
He begins to shake and scream and curse.
I don't know who is at fault for thinking of another
or if it matters at all.
Request permission to use this poem