While I stood immobilized in thought the sunlight turned wet streets into diamonds
People slowly returned from their storm shelter hideouts
I remember the sound of tires plowing through rain pools
A fools reflection in a store window , a straggling gust of air , the pang of solitude , scribbled chalkboard innuendo
My God stares over my shoulder with an eraser
Omitting filthy thoughts committed to the board
Smacking my young hands with rulers , the 'stuff' of unchecked imagination entwined in thorn
Hands clasped beneath my chin
Deciphering godliness from mortal sin
These wrinkled , wicked hands that feed city park birds
Eyes that recognize those in need can secretly undress women
on the busy streets
Was Jesus the beggar I looked away from or was he the
******* I made fun and sport of
Plodding the avenue , dreading home
Planning every moment , calculating every roll of the bones on the game board* ...