am I correct then, in assuming
that you don’t believe in miracles, good sir?!
I disagree, somewhat,
and counter then,
does not a beast deserve his wail?
one little onion
to get you out of hell
but two dollars and a few more cents
to buy a drink
to drown out this lack of dinner
the sun never mattered much
unless it was just the two of you
sedulous and alarmed
sweating out your shared lineage into that divine mortar
to break open those other stars that borne her
and now again, with vigor, I ask you,
am I correct in assuming, sir
that you still do not believe in miracles?
why then not follow me along
not too far at all
to that window over there by which money never lay
so I can show you love carrying the firmament
although simply for a lark