widened eyes
the entire party stopped
we shuffled out into the Indian summer
streets of Mountain Brook
Lexus leather
strongly odoriferous,
the waft toward my nostrils
is slow and solar
"That wasn't me back there."
I'm supposed to nod.
we watched the smoke rise from our phones
in Pythagorean horror
our eyes danced from point to point
in the never-grasped present
the wild bones of saints
press against the garments wrent
if Christ is God
this world is split
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