God is light on a broken pole

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.

you see,

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.

you see,

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.

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