First Star of the Night, a Child's Mind
Eating apple pie,
I could see you from across the street,
under the rosy hum of the city.
You looked just like a daytime version of a night hawk Jesus,
With your burlap loathing and electric halo suspended.
I was mistaken.
I thought about the time I brought flowers to your father in prison.
We talked for an hour about Picasso and drank milk.
He never told me why he hated you so much.
I thought I could become that bridge between love and dead love.
I was wrong.
Was it because he never saw your bedtime Buddha face afterglow?
I said I would be there if you ever got sick of wading through that
Chrysanthemum kaleidoscope of disappointment.
I was a liar.