For E E Cummings
i have wandered the dusty back roads of my youth
cut through cotton fields that screamed their brutal truth
crossed the burning sticky blacktops in bare feet
drank honeysuckle nectar-each drop hot and sweet
the southern summer's cloying--relentlessly hot
now i know these childhood days were my Camelot
i knew every alley--shortcut--and hidden path
i was myself then-in my hometown-in the past
i have traveled the superhighways ten lanes wide
lost myself in a city--miles from side to side
i have wandered Alpine glens and climbed their peaks
on borrowed time measured bitterly in mere weeks
my children are reduced to--murmurs on the phone
yes-i can tell you why most people die alone
i guess i don't think i will live to get that old
to have to wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled
and now i notice the road's begun to narrow
feel the trauma of my lifetime in my marrow
i note the edges of my vision growing dim
feel death's determined hold firmly from within
i feel unfocused--my brain on auto-pilot
my sleep is deep and dreamless and deathly quiet
the trees enclose--the road's a tunnel--cool within
the ancient Spanish moss absolves me of my sins
once set upon this road there is no turning back
with great apathy i acknowledge this as fact
©Danielle White
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