A day dream of social upheaval,
In the backdrop
Echoes of Frenchmen beg for mercy
At the sight of a guillotine.
I lean on a fence post
Admiring the unintended crucifix
That supports my weight.
Chewing on a cigarette like a piece of straw-
Complementing nostalgic affair
That is Americana incarnate.
At the bus stop
An old dame turns to me and says;
“Beautiful day…just beautiful…Bless the lord
For this beautiful day!”
She smells like whiskey
For some reason the scent arouses my libido.
“What’s your name?” She says.
“My name is Adam.” I reply.
“Well ain’t that Biblical for ya!” She says.
“My name is Agnes
Which means Lamb of God, Well Adam…
He was the first man, ya know…oy”
She makes the sign of the cross,
“The lord works in mysterious ways!”
Agnes gets on her bus and leaves.
I walk down the street
Thinking about the first man,
The first person. About all the complications
Such a creation engendered.
Adam abandoned Eve
After God demonstrated
The power of the Lord.
The Lamb of God.
Someday I’ll meet Agnes
Standing in line
Next to dead Frenchmen,
We’ll be somewhere in the middle
Waiting for paradise.