Mowed lawns, blooming flowers,
Spinning sprinklers, hoops over garages.
Shiny cars that start on the first try.
I saw you in every window I passed.

Guitar on my back.
I slept in the car.
Ate cheap at diners.
Walked the streets, alleys, parks.

Families with strollers, kids on bikes.
They shot me looks as they went by.
I’m a rat, a plague carrier.
Vermin that should be removed.

I’d been asking strangers for days.
I’m looking for a blind girl with red hair.
Name’s Claire, last name Javernick.
There couldn’t be more than one.

You used to live next door.
We’d sit on your front porch and talk.
You’d ask me how the flowers looked.
Said you’d rather be dead than blind.

I didn’t deserve to see you again.
I had no right to ask you anything.
I should have left you alone
And let you live your life.

Sun was going down behind the houses.
Kids played on the park swings.
I had leaned over a fountain to wash my face
When I heard you sing.

Red hair spread over the green.
A woman lying on a blanket.
A child climbed over her,
Tugging at her clothes, laughing.

Fiery red hair in the fading light.
Milky-white eyes.
Older, fuller, stronger.
A cane beside her on the grass.
Making up the words as she sang
About squirrels and butterflies.

You survived long enough
To become a woman I don’t know.

A man hurried over, put himself between.
He asked me what I was doing.
“Hey. Back off.”
She sat up, turned to the sound.
“Who is it?”
“Don’t know. Some junkie.”

I turned around and ran.