Behind my apartment complex
is a small creek
dry most of the year and filled
with trash
it gurgles this time of year with
brown foamy water
the wash of industrial civilization
at first the smell is foul, but now
is merely murky and there is no
smell and a pleasing sound of water

I look for signs of coziness around me
and I notice steam rising from the laundry
room that is visible in the cold
like a chimney puffing comfy smoke
into the rainy air

And I think of you and I'm afraid
I thought of you in Walmart
My life--this is the real thing
there are no romantic castles, only
a wet shopping cart in a crowded exploitive store
As I passed by the packaged vegetables
and stared at the racks and racks of ugly clothes
I thought, I am in control

The fear wells up inside of me
fear of HIM.  That him who squashed me
who took over my mind
I think of all the books I read, as people pass
by with very important shopping to do and
a homeless man makes a decision about which milk to buy
and he smells horrible, like decay and wetness
and people resent him and I wish
there were no homeless people
I wish there was more caring and less brutality in our world.

The key is not to care about HIM until you know who he is
The key is to keep your distanced mind in judgement
And I must remember this key because I swear
no one will ever hurt me that much again.

I am a hidden creek, a pristine one, because I would
never hurt the natural world as we have
He cannot see it, or any other he, until
I know exactly who he is.