I take things so hard

I went to see Bob Dylan

Didn't talk with him,

but as I was dismissed

by the guard

at the gate in Malibu,

he drove out of the premises

in an old American vehicle,

past the guard,

who lifted his hand in a greeting

as he handled me,

revealing his mulitasking capabilities;

my backpack on the ground beside us;

me just another dazed John the Baptist,

burning with songs