I don't know what they want

I don’t know what they want so I offer cookies and lemonade

I don’t know what they need so I proffer sleeping bags, toothbrushes

I don’t know who they are so we start introductions

I don’t know where they came from so we start drawing maps

I don’t know what might be useful so I start pulling things out

camera bags, wooden trains, tiny Lederhosen, broken easels

I don’t know what might be dangerous so I pack things away

sharp tables, Ethiopian daggers, rat poison, bleach

I don’t know when they’ll be back so I wait

I don’t know when they’ll be back so I wonder

I don’t know when they’ll be back so I start vaguely doodling

I don’t know if they’ll be back so I pack up to go

I don’t know why it matters but some things make me mad

so I try to remember: one foot, one day

I don’t know why it matters but some things make me sad

so I look for the music, I wait for the sunshine

Oh I am the desert and those thoughts are like tumbleweeds

I am the sky and they skitter like clouds

if I can be patient, there will be a tomorrow

if I stand stock still, the world will come back around

I don’t know how to stop. I see gongs and masks

I see flowers dried back when the world was still breathing

I don’t know how to stop. I don’t know what might be useful.

I don’t know what might be dangerous. I don’t know what they need.