Me Man

I am a black tarmac man.

My angels are real.

I tread pavements.

I am not wistful.

I am the grey concrete:

Brick on brick,

Not stone.

My land is housed

And pathed and lit.

I know no pastures green.

I know no still waters.

My wilderness has a close horizon.

I dwell in a full place.

I walk my dog.