It was early Sunday, around 7am, and I was downtown waiting for
a bus--late as usual--and this well-dressed man came over to me,
this man in a suit carrying a briefcase and wearing a smile.
He pulled out a black book and said, "I want to talk to you about
I said, "No thank you."
Still smiling, he replied, "You mean you're not on your way to church?"
And I say, "No, I don't go to church."
But this is what I should have said:
"I go to poetry, on my knees, take the word in my mouth, press my
tongue against fecund flesh, extend my arms, embrace angels as they
I touch them all...then watch their ascent up Jacob's Ladder, star
ships hovering, brilliant light, burst of flame, then a return to
a galaxy far from here. I never see them again, but that's all right,
because I carry their seed."
And then the man with the black book wearing a suit, no longer smiling,
just looks at me and says, "Is that so?"