Learning How to Pray

What a relief, the rain.

Shades I haven’t seen since childhood

Had been loitering in the alleys.

You can’t see them as well

When the water’s coming down.

I pretend we’re ok,

I pretend we’re going to be fine.

Seven times your face floated up.

Each time I wept.

I want the rains to fall on your garden.

Maybe the gods will be kind

When they look on you wherever you are.

Maybe you will be ok.

Maybe you will get better.

When Sunday comes

I will have ham and cold beer.

The Holy Ghost and I

Will pop wheelies by the trash heap

And try to scare squirrels.

As many as possible.

As many as it takes to forget.

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2 Comments

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  1. A quixotic one. Upon first reading several hours ago, it was opaque to me; now, a meaning emerges up from the images. Your childhood “shades” remind me of Miyazaki’s “No face” loitering outside a house. I love the the call for a blessing for another in the second stanza, even amidst weeping. On Sunday, may you have the best wheelies ever.

  2. Poor No Face! I may re-watch that film with Kyle tonight. Thanks for your thoughtful readership, Neil.

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