because hope and life is cruel
and maybe we will end up on the streets
and collect coke bottles
and live in a garbage disposal unit [yes, dumpster]
and then our lives will be
cheesy, sugary [sacchrine]
shortened, compacted, cheapened
cinema
entertainment
revue
and then some middle-age, balding, hypocritical asshole
and whose divine calling involved emigrating to the best city in the world
will come out and say "amazing, wasn't it"
we would've tricked some old woman into believing jesus with a lower case j.
Oh God, where are you now?
Oh Lord, say somehow
The devil is hard on my face again
The world is a hundred to one again
Would the righteous still remain?
Would my body stay the same?
and then i will hold him by the elbow
he will walk slowly out of the car
trembling
weak
gray
brittle
and i will prop him up
he will smile at me at whichever anniversary that we are going
i swallow my thoughts
nice
i feel the texture of his off-brown wool sweater with my fingers
i am at his funeral
i will be roaring out with rage and hate
finally screaming at the top of my lungs
jabbing my finger into the lectern
and the glass of water shakes
or
will i swallow my thoughts
ah, yes, pick up the violin again
beautiful music for this beautiful person's beautiful life
we would have travelled this far
we had accepted and conqured the challenge
and then will i keep on fighting
"God bless you."
Life is tough.