Sunday, November 23, 2008
Something about losing it all, now that the Depression season is around the corner.
All gifts are out of the sack; the warmth is the warmth from just here,
Friends are those who speak to you right now, the grocery clerk, the bagger.
Take turns at this public drinking fountain and note the person there before you
Then take note of the person after you, the brothers and sisters of your having been here
Just here, right now, the ones who register that true thing.