ACCOUNT OF MY DAYS
Sequence: 3
HOW IS IT
let it be night on the Muscatatuck
and the escapee's houses
drilled into the cuts in the land
let it be fog
moving on the surface of water
like the last memory
before the didn't-quite-kill-it-all
blow to the head
and the orchestra and robins
go biddle-ee-dee-dum
while the struggle to remember what to forget
puts down roots like a dry tree in the desert
let it be tomorrow or the next day
the visit from the Man from the State
with all his own problems
but time to stop and enquire after yours
how is it after all
how do things that get done get done
without your knowledge
with only the mildest of intents
with bare adequacy
in the middle of nowhere