Shooting heroin into himself
under the statue of himself, right beneath the feet
inside the church on Freemason Avenue
wearing an army jacket and jeans
talking about moderation
as King Josiah hides under a truck
after smoking pot
staring at a feral cat
the cat stares back
scurries away
Pete the Disciple vending tacos
"Glad I didn't get into all that New Wave shit."
"all in the name of moderation"
two Marys of a different sort say
to no one in particular
on two different street corners
after having switched places
and no one really notices
passing between destinations
failed dreams, skeptical desolation
but that's acceptance
rejecting cynicism
in the realm of positive thinking