I remember watching the sun
slide to the purple folds beneath my window
the day he died.
The oak of his coffin was grainy
/In Jerusalem there's no oak trees.

In kindergarten I sang of Jesus' love
the same way I sang of big blue dinosaurs that fly
Why is it that I can see them in my dreams but not Jesus?
after I've arranged all my clocks on the mantle from small to large
i'll sit in front and hold my breath till their silence drowns eachother out
maybe then he'll start the show