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All right, we're going
to skip "Rigor Vitus,"

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don't have time for that.

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Onto the next page.

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I'll do crossroads, "At the
Crossroads," the crossroads.

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As you can see it's
a very short poem.

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"At the Crossroads."

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"The wind blows a piece
of paper to my feet.

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I pick it up.

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It is not a petition
for my death."

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It's metaphysical, you
have to think about it.

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You know, it's at the
crossroads of one's life,

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where one has to make a choice.