As cold as you'd like
wary of an estuary where in
rivers like I might slide away
and mingle with seas
indistinguishably
swallowed by the ocean
over and over and over again
Who am I to ask the question?
Who am I at all?
Devil was there
hanging on the pinnacle
Earth pulls you in
and then you become the earth again
Or the angles scoop you up
Lest you dash your foot upon on the rock
Like you never mow the lawn
so your landlord does
It's funny how things like that have ways of taking care of themselves
Who am I to ask the question?
Who am I at all?