When he said Bible I heard his southern accent
and he had a face I expect all pastors must have
a round open honest face
that will always be a boy’s face
though its owner may rightly call himself a man
near my age though I hardly call myself a man
I have seen this face before whether in life or a dream
I can’t tell
I might’ve seen him on the street once
twice who knows and his pastor’s moon face
reminds me of something
some distant light my life used to own
One night on my birthday the moon was so strong it cast shadows
I could see to the far hill and back it was all clear to me
The moon hasn’t done that in a long time
its face has been obscured by clouds for weeks
and that boy on the bus his face I’ve forgotten
I thought I recognized a good number of people
on that bus who I didn’t know at all