on the waterside path
by the levy familiar geese
gaggle along
while a fat boy rests on the bridge
while his backpack rests beside him on the bridge
while the train goes by
that jackrabbit lolloping headlong
that reaches cover in the tall grass
and runs out the other side of the tall grass
toward the shack with walls no longer square
whose roof is rows of weathered slats that gap
to sunlight and the morning air
while two crows black and black
perch atop two dirty chunks of broken concrete
upon a low mound of broken concrete
and me watching
me watching
as if my heart would break
Bag of Anything 