“I’m with you! Here’s to Ourselves!”
Millions of eyes
Cover the ground
Your footsteps follow
You cannot recall where
The routes of the swallows
Who cut the air
Their wings a
wilderness of mystery
Thieves, illicit lovers
Grazing a pinnacle
Guttural howls
From cellars and lofts
Meet me there
Where at the lapis gate
Leaving the city
Riders sing soft
I simply want to be back home
a-eatin' flap-jacks, hash, and ham
With folks who savvy whom I am!
C.B. Crenshaw 