All right, we're going to skip "Rigor Vitus,"
don't have time for that.
Onto the next page.
I'll do crossroads, "At the Crossroads," the crossroads.
As you can see it's a very short poem.
"At the Crossroads."
"The wind blows a piece of paper to my feet.
I pick it up.
It is not a petition for my death."
It's metaphysical, you have to think about it.
You know, it's at the crossroads of one's life,
where one has to make a choice.