A white wolf wanders through the streets,
the heated concrete its new home.
Does he think of his family?
Does he long for his family?
White wolf, I cannot repel from this place.
I am transfixed as you pass.
The world rotates
and I rotate with it.
Does he hunger for truth like I do?
Does he look into the void and wonder?
White wolf, you are free to run
along the length of the beach,
yet I find you sniffing trashcans
in an alleyway.
You are thinking about where
your next piece of food will come from
and whether or not tonight you will die.
Your blue eyes reflect the sun
as you turn to look at me.
This work by Scott Stewart is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 Unported License.