iknewtheives&theyknewme

it falls apart
it is reformed
it is a dead end with no exit
it is the magic of being trapped
it is coffee
it is theft
it is silent
love
it is more than this:
a [the] storm
blows in and transforms even the birds
the question is not what but how long
and
how intense the
flame
how intense the
shame
&
where
the shadow falls
where lies can be told
there-
the logical beast
the stray
sniffing at each can, at the wonder tree
at the asphalt of feet
the feet
of old age-
disease
of death-
the feet, that form palms in prayer
feet
that hand the knees to earth
not to beg
but to know the vibrant grass.