jutting out into Indian River
was my altar
and I was the victim and the saint
my halo
was planned
and placed ahead of time
by me
all I had to do
was lay my head in the candles'
semi-circle and
canonization was complete
in my left hand was a bottle of brandy
in my right
thunderbolts
I arose the next morning
naked in my sleeping bag
and asked the fisherman fishing there
Catch anything?
he rowed away in fear and trembling
guess he'd never seen a saint arise
in the Adirondack Mountains
before
Babz
Please be gentle.
