I have failed you many times, it is true,
And I would not think you a bit remiss
If you did not trust any of my words;
Set it aside. Let us go, you and I,
Down gravel paths, deserted country roads,
To the place I lost teeth and broke my bones.
Six hundred paces further is the swamp.
Turn now to where the sun makes its descent-
That yellow house was where I learned to bleed
(Though the paint was gray when I was a boy).
Those hundred pine trees in a stately row
I planted with my brothers and sisters.
They are all the life I have ever made.
The land is not mine; I still own nothing
But here, you see my capabilities.
In this light it does not seem much of a promise.
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