After Another Country Some dark of us dark, The ones like me, walk Around looking for A building or a bridge. We mumble and pull At our lips, convinced, Until we see how far Down the distance. We arrive to leave, Calling ourselves Cowards, but not you, Rufus. You make it To the George Washington— Bold as an officer of the law With the right to direct traffic When all the stoplights Are out—and you leap Dirty against the whiteness Of the sky to your escape Through the whiteness Of the water.
