I found myself, one day, walking

For a release that was naturally desperate.

The release was glory, delight.

Then I heard a Latin voice like an angel,

Deep and rich, flightful, and I fought

To see the source of God. Surprise.

Dark skin, glimmering neck, and wrapped head,

My God was not Wuz up?

I pass them.

As I return, to toils and trials,

I look around, aware, alert, amazed

As I see people sitting. Sitting.

Down there? Where water passes

And flows through, washing away

The filth and grit of this hell that I

Am no longer sure is on Earth?

I pass them.

I hurry. What else is to be done?

Not safe yet, am I, on this walk,

So normal and yet so different.

People, more, with antennae,

Wandering, to what end I know not.

They get better reception?

I pass them.

Wait three times now I have passed them

Them the same as before then

So what then are they doing?

Finally I am safe, free. The end is nigh,

But I am safe among friends,

Able to recount to my friends.