no one was as at war as we,

and as our minds protested

our bodies did not

​

so we laid still, still, I was like a small

town somewhere in America a

broken-down, wooden trailer house

​

peering out past my oak window pane
to a world now distant and almost

inaudible
we can only watch in silence

​

but our eyes caught the sun, shining
with liberation we traversed into second

level, we felt rich without money

​

rich in feeling, worth more than any money
no one wealthier than us, our minds
no longer at war