Alms Rounds — You Go Your Way, I'll Go Mine
As a kid, i didn't dig Jesus 'cause i was a Jew.
Soon weary of teen princesses and Chosen People
I began to groove on His cool, fell in love with a blond
Strummed her guitar for me once, gave us both up for Christ.
In flagrante, the unmaidenly nun fled convent habit and wimple
But stayed Virgin Mary to my head if not manhood below.
Obsessing Gerard Manley, I conjured immaculate births, bones rising
Made no more sense than Yahweh’s fire and brimstone mishigas.
After sui generis beautiful music, we lost track
(Twice she phoned, woke the wife with Jesuitical quotidians)
Over an interested man’s rich catholic life
Which too passed like all those Latinate holy magic tricks.
I spend last days before last rites wandering place-to-place
Wear what I own, a sadhu who carries a bhiksha bowl
Pray, fast, beg, bless; and regretting Mo. Church’s Res Judicata
One bite at the apple simulacrum, still whimper ‘bout that girl