Why examine anything at all
when the sky puts on her covers?
A person can walk aimlessly
week after week, year after year,
for a half century at least
before asking, What’s that there
scratched out with pointed stone?
Dyslexic letters I step around
for Auld Lang Syne…is all I know.
Imagine. I can’t believe myself
for not seeing it all along! Cad.
Who writes truth in the wake
of the road, in the middle of no-
where? That I should stumble on.
for Real Toads