what we have here is a failure to communicate

I looked for myself
in the wide open spaces
between sunset colored sandstone.

I looked for myself
beneath a sage bush
where a rattlesnake had shed
last year’s skin.

I looked for myself
in a summer dry arroyo
beneath a hard turquoise sky.

I looked for myself
in the shadows between boxes
in the back of a moving van.

I looked for myself
in the curl and the crash
of an ocean wave.

I looked for myself
in the flecks of mica
on a rosy granite cliff.

I looked for myself
in the sifted sunlight spilling
through tree boughs and pine needles.

I looked for myself
in the heart of a man.

I looked for myself
in the road spun to black silk
on the wheels of my car.

I looked for myself
in the sand and the shells
shifted and sucked
by another sea.

I looked for myself
in high silent snowy peaks
and in low silent lava tubes.

I looked for myself
in the heart of a man.

I looked for myself
in the dragon’s roar
of a train in the night.

I looked for myself
in the graceful dance of iron
back and forth across three rivers.

I looked for myself
in the heart of a man.

I looked for myself
in the maze of an old steel mill
where a wistful wind wandered.

I looked for myself
beneath a bridge
where a gallery of graffiti hid.

I looked for myself
in the middle of a crowd,
in the puff of breaths in cold air,
in feet marching toward a cause.

I looked, and I looked,
and I looked for myself until
myself grew tired of waiting
for myself.

And myself tapped myself
on the shoulder and said
“Quit trying to find me,
I’ve been here all along!”