The Philosopher Savant in Safeway


I learned when I was an infant, 

the lilac swayed just once. 

Into a cart I knew no names 


as the tornado brought 

one more thing. 

Push away for colors, 


begin as icicles, can you? 

Into the aisle, I was but a wind, 

banged, remembered 


of laundry, fascinated 

against the tool shed 

to turn detergents 


by balloons, the door. 

George Wallace was out. 

When I wanted primary colors, 


I lay assassinated, 

lights to feel decorated 

on the ground of Alabama. 


Before I feel safe,