Footballs in the Fall
At the church of The Blessed Sacrament
We caught footballs, bought guns
Wore scuffed up, faded kicks
Smoked blunts
We looked into windows
and broke the glass
Stole the book of psalms
recited for the mass
And here I am
Unable to let it go
As though...
The streetlife, which has long since gone
peers through these rural panes
and cultures what is wrong
I am no one but for this
truth to mind
of where I belong
But I will survive the bricks
and broken sight-scapes
the hypodermics
And the fire-escapes
We will pass footballs in the fall
and make sacred sense
of what happened to it all
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