Gospel Proclamation
The mist on his glasses, perched on the end of his nose
Coffee cup sips, as he posed his points
Pacing up and down, up and down, up and down,
Tie whipping like his hands,
Accusing and deciding, one man jury, and judge.
And afterwards, when the crowds had melted away
And the subway like a fridge began to freeze
The icy wind grabbed hard on a pamphlet
And threw it at the man, bowed on his knees, praying.
Then, testosterone on skateboards roared down the yellowing tiles.....
His meditation snapped in half like his patience,
So he rose, stared for a long time at the barren ground,
And then dragged down the tunnel, with forgotten pamphlets paved.
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