like blue skies over rows of
split-level houses like
lush well-kept lawns
like driving lost down
anonymous suburban streets
says sunlight is all he has to
give you and so
you take it for your own
says the bridge only goes
half way across the river
reminds me of my
grandfather’s suicide of the pale
luminous skin of the only woman i
never stopped loving
feels like war
which is what we always say in
this age of neverending
atrocities
a million children
starve to death just so you
can grow up fat
a job digging unmarked
graves is still a job
dream of warm saturday
afternoons and the sound of
church bells
wake up to the
smell of gasoline
and god is neither lost nor
found and christ was only ever
one more frightened junkie
woman i know tells me she
can’t see me anymore but says
i’m still in her prayers and i
have no answer for this
but laughter
i keep driving
up and down silent
sunwashed streets hoping to
recognize one of these houses
as my own
i keep waiting for the
moment of truth to end
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