The day is hot and dry
and I wait on poetry
like I wait on rain.
I walk out into it
hoping to find
whatever it is I'm
hungry for,
some splinter of mercy
abandoned somewhere
I forgot to look.
Like any American I am addicted
to all the things I can't afford,
in love with everything
that kills me.
The blue sky looks kind
and forgiving
so I do not trust it
but it is beautiful and beyond
my comprehension,
so I ask no questions
and follow where it leads.
