Contrast

. . . The Cool wind whistles across the Texas plains

I sit with love, but

It is enclosed

We sit alone

To the T.V. and our names

So to find myself

I leave

And the cool wind whistles across the Texas plains . . .

I lie on the ground, and

Being Human I feel the burrs

So I scratch, but

The Humanity remains

In the heat of the lightning . . .

the cool wind whistles across the Texas plains.

And I cry

I cry