Can you tell me what to want now? I canâ€™t go on, no turning back. Weâ€™d sing, â€śJesus on the main line, tell him what you want. Just call him up, tell him what you want, what you want.â€ť But these six months, they came to me, I tell youâ€” tire tracks and footsteps flattened the grass â€™round the green tentâ€”my words made such sound toward the crowdâ€”they bent, repented. But I knew I was nothing, I just stalled in the riverâ€™s flow. I waited for you, tensed as a dogâ€™s hind leg crouching before bread crusts and melon rinds. Miz Black yowls â€śCall him up, call him up now!â€ť But youâ€™re here, and Iâ€™m blown, a cattailâ€™s sag, I am birds dispersedâ€”pepper in the wind.