Fate, you strange witch;
you carry me where you carry me
through beachtowns offseason, cold and quiet,
through cities, sizzling with news and
through messes that stick like new dew to old thoughts;
left me in a hallway once in West Baltimore with a whore
who pretended to only be someone's tipsy granddaughter
to lure me in; went threw my pockets,
erased what I had, but didn't erase
the prurient curiosity.
I stood my ground, foolishly,
under an unreliable sky--from 21 to 30, the rambling years.
Fate, I wont attempt to fight you, your nails are as long
as the wind,
and I am like a kidnapped boy in the backseat
blindfolded--I hear the movements,
I know I am flying, but I dont know to where.
Fate, you have a strangeness I don't recognize;
your face is dark and blends in too well with the night.
Then sometimes it is bright and disguises itself
in sun rays.
There is such promise as a child, glowing like a diminuitive star
such reason to walk like a impressive Gulliver,
tramping through nearly invisible villages, cities in awe of your feet.
I see the afro'd pictures from 78,
the future all tangled up in the proud young hair,
I didnt enjoy the power, why didnt someone alert me?
Shake me, shake me!
Fate--the stabbing of our backs,
the violent blood,
tended to by medicinal flowers, sly fate.