​Being catholic, it feels small
Quaint and very well kept
The rule for decorations
Posted sternly
At the entrance
Which when I first
Came upon it
I took for the exit
Which is acutely ironic
Considering the utility
Of the place

The church stands next to a
Home for the aged and frail
The vulnerable who
Can easily move to the church
When it is time
Easy to imagine
A procession across the street
Without aid of a long black car
Just wheel a person from
One stage to the next

My feet sink into
The earth
It cannot be good to feel
So comfortable with cold stones
Etched names
Some a bit familiar
None of mine

There is the billboard
Which hovers too close and too big
Advertising a reminder
Of my lost virginity
To what I thought then
Was the love of my life
He said I was too smart for him
I think it had more to do with
My size than my brain
Odd, the visible beginnings and endings
In one gaze across
A landscape

Makes me not want to leave
But I must
For my stomach growls
And my heart knows
There is still more
For me to do
And more for me to love
Before I become another
Name on a stone