When I was much younger,
and tried to picture Our Father,
for some reason, I always thought of my own:

God is a man with a dark red tan,
pale blue eyes, and big strong hands.
God is a guy with a hammer on his thigh,
hanging from a carpenter's belt
above blue-jeaned legs.
He wears a T-shirt that I think once used to be grey,
but faded by the sun to an almost off-white.
He wears a mesh navy cap. The one He always wore.
The one he got from his days as a volunteer fire-fighter.
The only thing I pictured differently was the hair:
Curlier, and instead of being brown,
it was golden blonde.

I used to see my dad when I'd think about God.
In many ways, I still do.