City of the Burning Hands
Standing at the corner of First and Forever, remorseful
in my hangover shoes, with a piece of fruit
in my pocket—waiting for the light
to change—I begin to believe
all beings deserve love.
A lost woman
across the street
finds a room of sunlight
on the steps of a bank building.
Her coat so thin stars pattern her skin.
How did she get here? I know nothing of her life.
I inhale the vast fragrance of an orange.
In the steep canyons of the city
life rushes forward…
a cop walks by and cracks a smile.
My hands fly up, I surrender!
I admit I know nothing.
What a relief! What freedom!
I am ready for your love.
Tom Snyder: Collected Poems 