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.