"You've made it
out of the city,
that image of your body,
trembling with traffic
and fear slips behind.
Your face arrives
in the redbud trees,
and the tulips.
You're still restless.
Climb up the ladder to the roof.
You're by yourself a lot,
become the one that
when you walk in,
luck shifts to the one
who needs it.
If you've not been fed,
be bread."


photo © the archive of light