They left my hands like a printer's Or thief's before a police blotter & pulled me into early morning's Terrestrial sweetness, so thick The damp ground was consecrated Where they fell among a garland of thorns. Although I could smell old lime-covered History, at ten I'd still hold out my hands & berries fell into them. Eating from one & filling a half gallon with the other, I ate the mythology & dreamt Of pies & cobbler, almost Needful as forgiveness. My bird dog Spot Eyed blue jays & thrashers. The mud frogs In rich blackness, hid from daylight. An hour later, beside City Limits Road I balanced a gleaming can in each hand, Limboed between worlds, repeating one dollar. The big blue car made me sweat. Wintertime crawled out of the windows. When I leaned closer I saw the boy & girl my age, in the wide back seat Smirking, & it was then I remembered my fingers Burning with thorns among berries too ripe to touch.