who's it gonna be, thee or me?
to write a poem, slay a tree
all so we could either be
the writer first of things we see
in each other and all around
from the jet stream to solid ground.

and if it's me who writes last at that point.
and you're left hanging, out of joint
at what i feel, what i believe
are you waiting, wondering if i deceive
all who travel in similar streams
nudging them with my old-man dreams?

03/31/2005