Page 266

By Jack Joseph Smith

The eye In Tne Animal Didn't eateh it, eross the eorner, wind the bvriteh,. across the roek there has to be @ stream, and @ river down through the eenter of your towm and as she came she said I did not leave you and I did not take you and I am the one who owns you,, and I have been through a cotton field and seen the stars at the same time and Ii have walked aeross the Gulf of Mexieo, onee that wouild be and sor I havent had a shotgun I my hand since Ii was alot younger than»you are and I have not been:able to twirl a basketball eoreetly sinee Il was fifty and I did not see a window in your song and it hurt dear and went away.

Original Scan

AI Interpretation

GPT

The eye In The Animal turns ownership into a roaming monologue of birch, river, cotton field, Gulf crossing, lost athletic skill, and a song that leaves pain behind.

The voice that says "I am the one who owns you" arrives through landscape rather than argument, moving from corner and rock to stream, town, and cotton field. Walking across the Gulf of Mexico sits beside not carrying a shotgun and no longer twirling a basketball correctly, so legend and aging share the same breath. The missing window in the song hurts because it suggests a song without opening, one that cannot let the speaker see through.

Claude

'The eye In The Animal': the beloved claims ownership ('I am the one who owns you'), having walked across the Gulf of Mexico once, not held a shotgun since he was young, not twirled a basketball since fifty, and not seen a window in your song — and it hurt and went away.