The afternoon sun shades his face
by Venetian blinds like pencil shavings
nearly transparent veneers of peach-colored
wood-skin unfolding in succession.
He’ll tell you a story. Test your amaze.
And when the bricks cool on the orange walls,
when blue-yellow bright gives off to pale ices,
when you’re sure you’ve taken the lay of the land,
the seismic man becomes again apparent,
Trusting you to give good advice, see his third eye.