All I have found is a book of poetry-
    for adults. So rare. I overhear
        Scarlatti battle the traffic;
            dust covers every word.

I must find a niche for myself-
shaken by laughter so close to sobbing.

Enclosed in the tightest space-
with the freedom of the cosmos.

I'll give my full attention
from my privileged station.

Ready to absorb and be 
absorbed reciprocally.

All too soon time will find me out,
    noise of the world rush back in.