I\u2019ll tell you again about my Allowable God.
\nHe grew up in Sandusky,
\nin Siberia,
\nthe Arabian Desert,
\nbut we touched fingers,
\ntraded glances in that Ohio town
\nby the lake.
\nBy that silver plate of a lake,
\nso shallow it drowned seagulls
\nand emptied itself in a gale.
\nBut he grew up as I say,
\nand I grew up in that place
\ncalled no place in particular,
\nexcept it grew flowers and fish and boys,
\nand a man with the bluest gray eyes,
\nthe fish envied him.<\/p>\n
I worshiped him,
\ntall on his bike from the foundry
\nwith his black lunch bucket of treats,
\nso God and I played together,
\nand grew up together.
\nAmong moons and pewter waves,
\nsun so yellow it fell like butter on the lake,
\nand I had no notion
\nthat I and my Allowable God
\nwould ever part.
\nLose each other down separate years,
\ngo off and call to each other later,
\nat odds, above the gears of machinery,
\nthe arguments of a party,
\nwatching television explode in our faces.
\nThat my Allowable God would miss me,
\nand I would miss him,
\nand we would forget how to speak to each other.<\/p>\n
But I discovered a wireless way
\nto get in touch.
\nLike the tall tree of my childhood
\nwhen I called him to me
\nand offered a hard red apple,
\nand asked how to read,
\nand he replied, nothing to it,
\ntaking my apple.
\nAnd I read like a demon,
\nthe taste of salt,
\nthe book of comets,
\nthe adventure of rain,
\nthe stained glass of a rainbow.<\/p>\n
Just dream.
\nJust ask for a dream,
\nand my Allowable God,
\nmy friend,
\ncame without cymbals or drums,
\ncame like the face of a beautiful baby.
\nAnd I unlocked myself
\nand opened doors and windows,
\nand let the cool air in above my roses,
\nand impatiens and ferns,
\nand kept company with my comrade,
\nmy Allowable God. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I\u2019ll tell you again about my Allowable God. He grew up in Sandusky, in Siberia, the Arabian Desert, but we touched fingers, traded glances in…<\/p>\n