They don’t pay the tuition of the snake or sweat gasoline
While pushing their wheelbarrows down Mouse Lane
They don’t gamble with your round pillow-mirrors or
Garden with brand new barber’s shears
Sometimes an eyeball falls out—so what?
They wander around Guilford Forest checking out shadows
The arc lamps throw down around closed snack shops
If your bicycle has white-walled tires they’ll strike a match
Across a brick then sing Jimmy Reed songs until
The moon comes out with used guitars and shopping cart drums
Sure they knock over café chairs and such but the unrolled
Bandages dragging behind them sweep up pretzel bags and dust
If you want to watch them grump around the ferry dock
Cut a hole in the toes of a good pair of boots
And paddle into the mist alone
Sing out loud when they sing
Then see if you get home