About Those Purple Socks
  
Graham Greene’s Monsignor Quixote
  
The world had no more use for any of them:
An old Communist, an old priest, an old car
All of them well into their horsemeat days
And so they fled, and crashed into the truth
  
On a chivalric quest for purple socks
Wandering on the road to Golgotha
Their Stations of the Cross a cinema,
A pair of Guardia, a brothel, wine
  
And so they fled, and fell into the Truth
There at the foot of the Altar of God