by dm gillis

I remember believing in God
how He made the city translucent
the wrecking yards glow in the evening
rust in the shape of gang turf
the white face of Heaven
pockmarked from the fall &
Jesus with a nickel
looking for a phone booth
His well finned Cadillac
soaring like a bullet
in search of gravity, of
what is Holy like guacamole
or a nice spicy enchilada