In short knickerbockers I would run
Away from the court wall’s darkness.
The car came from dust of darkness.
It would soon attain light to highway.
The car brought my people from dad.
They were strangers against my mom,
Who wore a familiar dust on her face
And my knicker legs wore small dust.
Dad was dream from my small sleep.
But they were real folks of dad dream.
They were flesh then but now in dust.
Dad had turned to dust long long ago.
I keep counting my folks to their dust
The brown car that had brought them
From out of highway’s nocturnal dust
In dream, readying to join all this dust.