What Kind Of A Person Are You, I Heard Them Say To Me. I'm A Person With A Complex Plumbing Of The Soul, Sophisticated Instruments Of Feeling And A System Of Controlled Memory At The End Of The Twentieth Century, But With An Old Body From Ancient Times And With A God Even Older Than My Body. I'm A Person For The Surface Of The Earth. Low Places, Caves And Wells Frighten Me. Mountain Peaks And Tall Buildings Scare Me. I'm Not Like An Inserted Fork, Not A Cutting Knife, Not A Stuck Spoon. I'm Not Flat And Sly Like A Spatula Creeping Up From Below. At Most I Am A Heavy And Clumsy Pestle Mashing Good And Bad Together For A Little Taste And A Little Fragrance. Arrows Do Not Direct Me. I Conduct My Business Carefully And Quietly Like A Long Will That Began To Be Written The Moment I Was Born. S Now I Stand At The Side Of The Street Weary, Leaning On A Parking Meter. I Can Stand Here For Nothing, Free. I'm Not A Car, I'm A Person, A Man-God, A God-Man Whose Days Are Numbered. Hallelujah.