The rude hands of a midmorning breeze

      stole my

      paperthin blanket

And I met eyes with

      a curiously mindless

      roden

As it sniffed

the puddle next to

my face

            and left with a scoff

I looked up and

      wondered why the clouds are blue

      wondered why

            the

      blind cartographer

      begged for food

            from the garbageman

I can feel---

      even the blind man

      gave me a look of distain

I crawled into the bottom

      of this feature-less rock

And silent (doubted once again)

      my preschool lessons---

            I can be anything I want to be?

            Just need imagination.