I was the father of two
Young children when I started
Plans for a long walk that became
Shelter in my mind where I
Arranged my things or chose
Among unlimited potential routes
Land and sky parting like
Content in a trance I could
Move west through

I had been made so
Any given morning brought
Regret I should be unable
To reverse my progress out of sleep
Though both hands were asleep
Fastened around the black
Coffee that made me want to put
It all into writing but why
You know the taste

The thought of sleeping 
Under bridges and drinking
Coffee there appealed to me
Autumn would have been perfect
I had a hat with a brim
Sandals that lasted forever
A knife and a steel bottle
I kept near the intercom
That relayed snores

The brain had certain templates
Representing not experience
So much as extinction of all
Alternative lines of descent
All futures not threading beige
Paths through wood and meadow
Not red fruit punctuating foliage
Not glittering sound of cool water
In which I thought lay one secret