inter alia

here i am again

in first person

keeping you second

and out of the rain

peering from a window that isn't there

showing its limitations

silence

showing its testimony

to lines i should have sung

 “a cottonwood moon

slipping through forms

like fingers of velvetine”

but i'm no gypsy

i have my needs

even a penny for my thoughts

pays it forward to the next one

and out on the ledge that isn't there

i look for people looking up hoping

i splatter among the unwashed

then i am a gypsy

and have no needs

money can't make me think

or payforward grateful

so i pretend

and play among words

as if they are my metier

which is so crassly pathetic

however needless it is to be said

in the same voice which made you second

out of the pain

which i have done

inter alia