I should be protected from bee, bird-babble, breeze
not exposed on this outcrop
It looks like a porch with white chair rocking, looks
enclosed, partially, but here the rain tails in hesitant
wetting the toes of my shoes

So I’m not standing wide armed, Howdy World
Wind whipped, I am shivering, my knees are knocking
I wrap in the blanket my mother knit years ago
when she was young, before the disease
but you know all about that
her brain, how it funneled away
but still the blanket covers

Though in her good times, what color sense
She should have had some foresight
planned a blanket for a future time

Is this why I have no taste
Is this why I clean my closet
Is this why I throw so much away
Is this why I buy so much to take its place
Is this why I am so cold

The blanket blends with the peeling paint
the concrete floor, the chair
all old and out of date
and I am invisible
like the owl in the night
wide-eyed, fluffed
shivering with unknowing
waiting for traffic
the music to pulse steady, strong
lift me out of here
and just then the truck passes
rumbling far away, but not too far
A chance for sure