I used to sit under an oil tree,
reading Frank O'Hara's 'Lunch
Poems.' They were fun, and cute,
and coy, and uniquely wordy. Just
as I wanted to be : which was a
really bad idea in retrospect.
Across the street was that huge,
old church - Richardson or
Renwick or one of those guys :
architects on gospel parade,
always designing Gilded Age
churches. If God had a care
for any of that, He'd have
made us of skin we could
take to the bank.