ASK ME

Ask me sometime what truth means,
what I think my lonesome task is.
Ask me sometime
if what I’m doing right now
makes any sense.

Under the bridge, the dried leaves on the pavement
lie silent and still before the golden dawn.

Ask me sometime if my life
is like a painting that I’m walking into,
where I know everything that is to come.
Then ask me if a coldness is
around me, if now we are free.

A flock of birds flies past the window,
changes course and heads into the morning sun.

Ask me who it is I want to please,
and who I want to be happy.
Ask me whether we should bury our toys
in the sand, if we should honor our fathers.
Ask me sometime if you’re the one I love.

(19 June 2006)