toppled street lights
illuminate east city streets.
wheel chairs drive by, and
exhaust of cigarettes pollute air.
retarded kids screech to halt when
they almost hit diseased dog, crossing
the ash paved avenue. and Jesus’
neighborhood has been having a drug problem lately.
i cannot hold onto a steering wheel
to make him stop raping her. and speed
limits cannot slow churches down from leaving town.
now i find i am no longer a goat on a road.
now i find Jesus when i find my friend who fights chickens
and makes methamphetamine and lets his teeth rot out
into the asphalt beneath my feet.
she crashed her virginity at 14.
she saved my soul at 76.
no one notices street lights illuminating interstates.
only broken poles that still shine, catch eyes.