Joan asked if she could help me --
a friendly enough clerk at Walgreens,
with a ' JOAN ' name tag --
and I'm trying on sunglasses.

"Try these with the pink lenses,"
she hands me a pair
I would not have chosen
and as I lift them to my nose
to model them in the mirror
she explains that,
"You'll be able to see God
and the pink glow will warm
your understanding."

That was this morning --
I have spent the afternoon
in a pink haze of holiness
contemplating all those stories
of Zen masters and their
eccentric methods,

scribbling poems about everything,
formulating new beliefs,
and wondering about a shrine
and candles for St. Joan.

< Back | Slow Trains Contents | Roomful of Navels Contents | Other Chapbooks Next >