Distant Stations

I found an old rock in the dry dirt outside
 The door of my motel room
 It was a triangle with soft, rounded edges and a split down the middle of one corner
 It was darker than English moss, green like the soft frills of a peacock's plume
 I waited for you but I never told you where I was
 It was who taught me how to write these kinds of equations
 I waited on the steps for you and I hid in the bushes whenever a car pull into the parking lot
 You taught me how to listen to these distant stations
 Distant stations
 I saw the sky break
 I threw a rock at a crow who was playing in the mulch of some rosebushes by the motel office
 Missed him by a good yard or two
 I sang old songs from nowhere
 Los Angeles, Albuquerque
 I said a small prayer for the poor and the naked and the hungry
 And I prayed real hard for you
 I waited for you but I never told you where I was
 It was who taught me how to write these kinds of equations
 I waited on the steps for you and I hid in the bushes whenever a car pull into the parking lot
 You taught me how to listen to these distant stations
 Distant stations