they thrust me early into Protestantism.
The stories were neat. So were the smells
of minty chewing gums. And contemplating
concepts like eternity and streets of gold
in a place you have to crane your neck
to try for a glimpse and a telescope
is a waste of piggybank pennies, meaning those
are wonderful imagination spoons; Sundays
were always richer after sinning Saturday.
I just never got into the work ethic part.