Harry Dean Stanton.

When the Earth was young every
Time slot was available.

You could part the waters of a party, asking
Which came first,

The chicken or the egg

Or feeling tired.

It was before the allegory of the cave and
People believed faithfully

What they saw in windows.

A kid's marble dinosaur was propped up
On the ledge of a Shoney's

And either dusk or the doppler steeple traffic
Filled the old inside with
The light of damnable earnest nausea.

And that, and not magic,
Is how we got home at night.