I stare at photos
from the 1970's and
wish for grenades and flower vases
that pass for God
in a slow dissolve
there used to be a plan
drawn in blackest of ink and
stamped on the foreheads of
altar boys who could have been me
we who never volunteered
saved by our own reluctance
and the parents and relatives
who disapproved
still like to imagine
their heroes in stained glass.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
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