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,