Let's say you were in
The environs of Hallelujah, Idaho, assuming A place like this exists At
all. There always Seems to be a parade
Going on down main street. In the donated convertible From Halleluiah
Chevrolet, There is an older woman, Knitting what looks
To be a boa. The feathers, While a magnificent Lemon-orange, are
probably A mistake. Her fingers trudge Through the invisible
Exhaust of the Corvette, Which, also, seems misguided. She wanted to
ride In a Studebaker, like When she was a girl.
The air of Halleluiah In those days was crisper; Cleaner. Even the horse
shit Was radiant, and there was Certainly plenty of that.
Anyway, the Corvette Seems to be the question; The existence of anyone
In Halleluiah seems to be A question, too. This is
How people get answers, Under the scheming clouds Of Idaho. Figure, one
day You are going to be asked Where all of this took place.
; then Amen.