Before Me and Someone Else

by John Garmon


Myself as no one in particular
Reading a bland newspaper
Leaving ink stains on my fingers
The landscape changed
I was in the church of the holy
Crossroads of mistaken identity
Putting my insignificant donation
Into a dubious platter of coins
I wasn’t sure would spend
Somehow reverential
Knowing angel wings last forever
The stations of doubt called
I walked slowly indigenously
Splayed on my own anonymity
I slipped into another skin
Went out to meet the traffic
Focused on finding a river
Where I could wash myself
In the purity of ashes

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