as i sat up in bed
this morning
i saw him that way domed
and deeply tanned
like an iraq war vet not bearded but
stubble-faced sweating
behind aviator shades, wearing a ballistic cammy vest
over an olive drab tee shirt
a beretta service automatic strapped
to his thigh
and he's standing on the shore
of the sea of galilee
amid his seated hadjis all
of whom are dressed
in traditional robes, sporting beards, sandals,
long hair, etc., but seem not
alarmed at his odd appearance and he wastes no
time explaining
nor is himself surprised at the sight
of a juggler a sword swallower
a belly dancer nearby
must have washed up from that fellini film he muses
the one about the whore
with a heart of gold and a name
he can hardly ever spell right
which was another thing
about the damn romans he thought
they never took the straight path to anywhere
or gave their whores
a good christian name you could put your arms around
like mary maggie
