Your shirt is an American flag
tucked soundly into your jeans
neatly reading "Blessed Nation"
and also "Never forget"
Your girlfriend is too beautiful for you
but your watch looks like it's powered
on the kinetic energy garnered
from moving your hand, checking luggage.
You are the only other person drunk
in 10:30 Atlanta, the Delta hub as the
young peach of day crests the low hills
and the birds clack like moving side-walks.
It is God marauding through his new eden
It is God wrapped up in his own Flag.
Thursday, November 6, 2008
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