When daylight breaks across this little path
That crosses between the house and cars,
The tiny weeds I have fought so hard
Rise up and rise up and spread their laugh
The laughter of the harlequin in pumpkin’s shadow
The laughter of the mice among the mulch
The feral cats of our small street sneer and skulk
And the ants in all their industry work and know
I am just a passenger across these territories
The quiet kingdoms of the world see me
A kind of earthquake, a passing disaster, a story
They tell to the littlest among them, in me
The flood, perhaps, the indifferent foot or palm,
In this indifference to them, I walk on, and on.
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