"Since the first hunters dragged in a kill
Bigger than any one of them could possibly
Defend or eat, no one has ever owned
Anything. There's never been actual wealth,
Never been money, only ever forbearance
And credit. The man offering to help
With the cumbersome luggage cart, saying
The wind off the prairies meant a big storm,
The woman swiping plastic behind the desk
And saying the same, the customer blown in
From somewhere west of here and sad, all
Depend on the delicate tissues of trust
And misplaced belief to find a place to sleep
Tonight in Gas City, soon to run short of reasons
To believe, since the needs of the world shift
And with needs shift beliefs," you said to me
As the wind blew down the highway and through
All the leaves without trees.
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