F a t h e r L u k e . com

	
To Whom it may concern:

	
I, 

for one,

would like

to know

just

what you are

going to do

about it.

	
signed,

Concerned 

	

We get swallowed up in
the day by day
floating farther and farther
from the shore until
we look around
adrift too far
from
nowhere

That end of Pacific Ave is
where the junkies live.

The other end is
where Lawyers drink six dollar coffee drinks.

That end of Pacific Ave is
where the used clothing and furniture stores are.

The other end is
where they sell twenty five dollar butter knives.

That end of Pacific Ave you have
the faggots and the queers.

At the other end are
gays and lesbians.

In the middle of Pacific Ave is
a crossroad, and buses come from
locally, and out of town, taking people home.

In the end it’s all home.
And home is a place you carry in your heart,
which is usually someplace far away.

It is so easy
getting loose of people
to whom I
seem
despicable.

Easy.

I tell
them the
truth.

“The ‘Truth’, Padre?”

yes.

The best lie in
the world.

The truth.

Unfamiliar room
AM – FM radio

Kneeling

Time Set – press
Alarm Set – press twice

Select: FM

Turn the tuning knob – – static — then a mexican station playing trumpets, and a man singing a song I don’t understand, except for his sadness

Touch: SNOOZE

Up off the floor — listening to the knees pop

Limp to the bed
Drawing back the covers

Turn off the lights
And wait for the morning

Blah blah blah

Blah blah

Blah blah blah

Blah
Blah
Blah

Blah blah

Ring. Ring.

hello?

Padre!

I was eating toast when the phone rang.
Joseph calls about once a week, and
the phone call usually ends when
the phone line goes dead – either his phone,
or mine will run low on batteries and just disconnect.

As I slowly chewed my toast, and
listened to him talk, I thought
about the years which
his words echoed
off of.

What are you chewing, he said.

toast, I said back into the phone.

You could even write about toast, and
it would be good he said.

This, then, is for Joseph.