Do you know who I might be?
There I slip through the shadow
in a stiff wicker cowboy hat
There I slide alongside the
swamping pole-boat as cool
and quiet as the black water

And whose fault is it anyhow?

Do you recognize me?
I’m putting ruddy thick hands
into my worn but clean bluejeans.
I’m settling a flap of flabby
pale belly inside nice western-style
silver-snap-button blue and white shirt,
letting it flop over my big belt buckle.

Do you know who I am?
Watching from the window
considering the angles
while the motor throbs
and the necessities whirr.

Ah let it be
let it go
you don’t know who I am
and you ain’t gonna ever
know who I am or what I done or where I come from or why or nuthin