I climbed the field-stones
That perforated the edge of the patchy
Worn lawn
In front of the white
Barn-like tabernacle
I was too restless to sit inside on the
Slatted pine benches
My feet wouldn't reach the gray
Concrete floor
But through the wide screens
I could see paper fans
Like whitecaps
In a sea of beehive hairdos
The ebb and the flow of the
Evangelist's prose
Distorted the tinny speakers
Mounted under the eaves
For those
On blankets and lawn chairs
Preferring the breeze to the
Shoulder by shoulder press
Of the faithful
Basting in suits and long dresses
I knew the crescendo
The song leader rose
The organ began with
“Just As I Am”
The fisher of men cast
His net
Between verses
Every head bowed and every eye
Closed
I knew that the song would be sung
One more time
Then the screen door would yawn
And soon we'd be walking the black-oiled
Dirt road
To the snack bar for sherbet
Under the yellow floodlight
