In the ragtime of the mind will you or I be left behind?
You will ask a question. And how will I surround it?
Like a pintid aboriginal with dance and shouts and childlike derision?
Or simply lurk around it in embarassed indecision?
If I had posed the question first, how would you respond?
Or would you answer it at all?
Like trees in poorly planted arbors, we compete for distant light.
Neither you or I can grow so it is time for me to go.