What is the question you almost heard

Sometimes I weep at the beauty of our collective ideology, how ignorant and eventful the afternoons become when we really listen to what we believe in like it's the difference between now and danger. Some wry synthesis of speech and place/ image of a stuttering wave that crashes as the blades I mentioned earlier and forgot about daddy's hands stuffed in his slack pockets on a paranoid rocket number 9 in the Amarillo, Texas parking lot waiting for the knot in his heart to burst or resolve itself as chamber music, a lonely black man standing in a parking lot with his wife and infant waiting for the train to turn the corner so he can beg it to stay 

I've been waiting all this time in a tawdry shrine of utter forgotteness      to  situate the voice locked   in the scene locked   in the dream of fear  of the dream   I've  been weighing all this value    against  the shrug   of a comfortable demon      wanting   so much to be loved   by a man  who   could outdrive   any fugitive   on the innocence   of his  scandalous    commitment to the   good     and   then   one     double     hooded    element   could turn   all that   time    into   temptation        

                         There is something I've wanted  to tell   you  And some men do like the movies         If I rollerskate up to the window again   in   terrycloth and linen     maybe   a bandana  hugging my    spirals    and the fries and shakes and burgers  you   ordered even   though I don't believe   their   food   anymore         will  you still   be    there          tucked  behind the window waiting   for a friend   to notice      that sweat  is tears    that gun in your hand is aimed  in every direction    and the panicked hostages   are smiling   into  a pink and violet   sun