I.
Smoked ham, pepperoni, and salami.
Provolone, banana peppers, and mayonnaise.
Red wine vinegar, olive oil, onions, and oregano.
Oh, how things like our taste buds do change
as I try to wash down this Italian sub with
some freshly squeezed lemonade.
I used to be a picky eater,
but—who am I now? I ask myself as I swallow
the last bite while watching a new Pens winger
take another shot on goal and miss again.
My stomach is full,
but I do not feel whole
—something’s missing.
II.
Retracing my steps back down Centre Avenue
I pull into a bank parking lot across the street
from Saint Andrew’s stone-castle Lutheran Church.
I sense a strange connection to the light
shimmering behind the stained-glass windows
like the sun shining on the other side of the sky.
I want to go in, but I just take a picture.
I wonder—Whatever happened to that boy
who used to wear a white robe
and light candles on an altar?
That Sunday morning acolyte who gazed
into this same sort of three-paneled glasswork
pattern crafted by hands from the same era.
III.
Jesus said, Let the little children come to me,
and I guess I’m not so little anymore,
but I still want that blessing that allows
me to become one with the light shining out-
side the image, because I believe these stories
are not merely trapped inside the colored glass.
I want to go home to that immeasurable love.
I don’t want to be here anymore, but I guess
I’m just sick of mundane bachelor meals alone.
Jesus give me a glimpse—a momentary flash
make me new like a child again,
show me the other world outside isolation
where you exist as light and are love.
