What Kind Of A Person

"What kind of a person are you," I heard them say to me.

I'm a person with a complex plumbing of the soul,

Sophisticated instruments of feeling and a

Of controlled memory at the end of the twentieth century,

But with an old body from ancient

And with a God even older than my body.

I'm a person for the surface of the earth.

Low places, caves and

Frighten me.

Mountain

And tall buildings scare me.

I'm not like an inserted fork,

Not a cutting knife, not a stuck spoon.

I'm not flat and

Like a spatula creeping up from below.

At most I am a heavy and clumsy

Mashing good and bad

For a little

And a little fragrance.

Arrows do not direct me.

I

My business carefully and

Like a long will that began to be

The moment I was born.s Now I stand at the side of the

Weary, leaning on a parking meter.

I can stand here for nothing, free.

I'm not a car,

I'm a person,

A man-god, a

Whose days are numbered.

Hallelujah.