The Village One morning a woman walked into the village No one ever walked into No one no one knew anyway The first man she saw He was shoeing horses she told him she’d lived in that village He was about her age And couldn't for the life of him Remember her She told everyone she met She’d lived there But no one knew her name neither Her first nor her last Much less her two names together They figured she was mad And let her wash and dry glasses in the inn In exchange for a room Cluttered with broken furniture She had to climb over To reach her straw-stuffed bed And in time she could truthfully say She lived in that village Just as she’d said