First person rural (A robbery)

I.

And he walks me over                    "Look at that,"

he says 

       turning green                 as he 

talks.

 I could tell him something about

              a raw tree, so to speak

              an incredible

  woods                                         with

knots,

         full. But I don't get into that. I

                                                            head on down to the city

II.

Because we              always leave

          when I come

                                                   she is holding

                                                               out.

We are going first to Brusca Ica.

   We get nowhere

                            in the narrow little shop.

We never even get it across that we are trying.

III.

But I also have

                            done

                                      that could 

be called                 more. Over the years

I've 

   started from a state of ignorance,

                                   I have made

every mistake but one.                     I've put up a 

fence 

instead.

Put the small

          thing 

long before.

           I blundered.

IV.

I wasn't                             my pulp,

          my new woods.    

       I know now they were.

    Even then I knew it.

  But I hadn't thought of it yet.