thin, dark, pretty girl in the roadside diner

Come away with me…

Crosses by the highway

Words from the language of lost tribes 

Speak of both our solitary and communal grief

A crass apparition of the law

Hangs over each of us

Would be angel 

Spies the man trudging

along the shoulder

Half-naked

Exile from a violated garden

Fig leaves exchanged 

For the skin and blood of 

the One who can save us

Along this broken road

We are all

Pilgrims