Change

My angel,

I am not used to change

stay with me a little longer

I pray

don’t leave just yet

you’re heading to the coast

I hear

there you’ll meet better men than I

these lamplit streets, the ice cream shop

we loved,

the old cathedral and your cat

they are all your ghosts. But now there is a man

I see

hovering in the Little Caesar’s,

he’s stooped and paunchy and reeks of marijuana,

I watch

him drop some pennies without noticing

and as he rises to the heavens

I worry that he is God