Cop Or An Archeologist

Sometimes I leave the house to scatter myself deep within the bowels of some unsavory street hoping I'll never return. In another lifetime, I knew something about love but everything now is just retreat. The days of soft sunlight on garden roses have grown extinct. In ancients woods I recited poetry and prayers, I'm certain, I abandoned my soul there. I've seen lost deer wandering in the city, this is how misplaced a man can feel. If ever questioned by a cop or archeologist as a material witness if you've ever seen me, I'm confident you haven't.