He looks out upon his woods
A clear view
From the cottage bedroom window
He tiptoes barefoot
Over her newly fitted carpets
I drive a little faster
In a mood of abject darkness
I hold a tight grip on the wheel
Of my gathering nervous self. I drive
Doubtful across the vast suspension bridge
The boy surely meant no harm
His, a simple & innocent response
To one well experienced
In misunderstanding the use
Of well chosen, yet ambiguous words
Anyway why should I second guess
Of that which is only vaguely true
Why I could end up, down there
In the swelling brew; wide of the mark
I might be a goner & still be so far askew
