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It seems the less I believe in God,
The more solemn life around me becomes.
Dear pal,
How's heaven?
I look both ways,
Before crossing the street to reach
This better vantage point
Running errands,
In my full shadows;
Pinned neatly above
My shadow –
A god of thieves –
I have seen more than I ever saw.
Here the sky has no forbidden borders—
Things vanish in all directions.
I remember a past plot,
Dear pal, of your God in heaven,
Made out for clipping
Our earth-bound fire wings.
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Unsteady Treads
