I found an old rock

in the dry dirt outside

the door of my hotel room

it was a triangle with soft rounded edges

and a split down the middle of one corner

it was darker than english moss

green like the soft frill's of a peacock's plume

I waited for you

but I never told you where I was

it was you who taught me how 

to write these kinds of equations

I waited on the steps for you

and I hid in the bushes whenever a car pulled into the parking lot

you taught me how to listen to these distant stations

distant stations



I saw the sky break

I threw a rock at a crow who was playing

in the rose bushes by the motel office

missed him by a good yard or two



I sang old songs from nowhere

Los Angeles, Albuquerque

said a small prayer for the poor and the naked and the hungry

and I prayed real hard for you

I waited for you

but I never told you where I was

it was you who taught me how

to write this kind of equation

I waited on the steps for you

and I hid in the bushes whenever a car pulled into the parking lot

you taught me how to listen to these distant stations

distant stations