I am a scarecrow unlabeled
hiding in the corn.
And there are miles of sky
from under which
this land like water flows.
It is my blanket and my goal
for out their no one calls the shots.
But driving endlessly to find that end
seems a futile dream.
There is not a place within this world
where tall or short, black or white,
comes to mean nothing.
The wheels from my Chevy
have rotted off in search,
chassis sunken into the ground.
I know that brand name
caused a spark to tag a word to me,
But I am forced to be
this crippled soldier
in this world of certainty.