I Do you remember the tune we used to sing years ago marching in file some distant road where now all the others go a game of cards in a wet tent in the green hills of Scotland and our long philosophical talk where all the tankers strand. II When I call you on the phone some night and ask you to come over don't hurry but take your time 'cause you might change your mind and I am not that important. III When you see me on some grave yard among the other lonely people I am there because of my parents who left me with their ghosts waiting for their one and only son. IV Don't read my poems by candlelight don't take them down to the market place because now that I have come that far I want to be on my own. V Words tumble if you don't lend a hand images fly away if you don't lock them in and I am just the magician's servant who still worships a masterpiece that he cannot control. VI I hope these lines satisfy your values and if they don't go deep enough grant me my petty struggle my tobacco is not the best you can get and still I am trying. VII Don't read these lines too fast you might miss me and I don't want to be forsaken by someone who is looking for me.