Distant Stations

I found an old rock in the dry dirt outside

The door of my motel 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

frills of a peacock's plume

I waited for you but I never told you where I was

It was 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 pull 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 mulch

of some rosebushes by the motel office

Missed him by a good yard or two

I sang old songs from nowhere

Los Angeles, Albuquerque

I 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 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 pull into the parking lot

You taught me how to listen to these distant stations

Distant stations