I spy! I have been immobilized by the things I see.
The knuckles of rock I've climbed across,
And the welts of black on the birch
From our lawn.
I wonder if I could just listen to a song,
And have the tempo dictate me while it
Was going on.
Now, I am moving ahead. The current of expectation
Is at least similar to the current of the rock garbage,
Similar to the wood.
When I was a kid I used to thrust my hand at you, and say,
I was part sail.
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