And I can't complain. I have traced my destiny
in patterns on veins of leaves and spoken
with many colored birds. The sound of rain
has comforted me. I have wrapped myself around
rough brown trunks and shimmied along all
that great length, climbing or descending as mood
or need demand. When I'm hungry, I eat and
when I sleep, I dream in great red waves of desire.
It is true I remember nothing.
Whatever I earn, I add to my pile and when
I spend, a window opens to pure joy. I reach and take
each shiny object, my pupils dilate, my magpie fingers burn.
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