About Those Purple Socks 
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Graham Greene’s *Monsignor Quixote* 
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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 
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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 
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And so they fled, and fell into the Truth 
There at the foot of the Altar of God