Ungrateful, hateful criminal on the corner of the coffeepot and the counter:

What are you carrying, where are you going, do you possess the contraband

of forbidden dreams or other drugs and weapons? You don’t mind, do you,

if I search you with the fading light in my eyes, my arthritic hands, and this

two-headed dog you will inherit if you just hold still a little longer?

Come along to wall, to the ground—I’m going there anyway, I’ll help you.

Do not think I want anything other than to keep you safe,

like a hydraulic dam keeps a city safe from flooding and powerlessness,

all the shutting-up of all that force and flowing

serving the greater good, and the sun still shining 

on the still and silent water.