They left my hands like a printer's

Or thief's before a police blotter

& pulled me into early morning's

Terrestrial sweetness, so thick

The damp ground was consecrated

Where they fell among a garland of thorns.

Although I could smell old lime-covered

History, at ten I'd still hold out my hands

& berries fell into them. Eating from one

& filling a half gallon with the other,

I ate the mythology & dreamt

Of pies & cobbler, almost

Needful as forgiveness. My bird dog Spot

Eyed blue jays & thrashers. The mud frogs

In rich blackness, hid from daylight.

An hour later, beside City Limits Road

I balanced a gleaming can in each hand,

Limboed between worlds, repeating one dollar.

The big blue car made me sweat.

Wintertime crawled out of the windows.