See You on the Other Side of the Page
When I was young they called me eloquent. They can’t say that anymore.
Running after the ice-cream truck I stubbed my toe on a sprinkler.
“Ouch,” I said, hopping, then caught my delicious dreams rounding out of view.
I sped from wet grass onto burning asphalt, sizzling.
As the eternal and exalted sovereign of the Church of Former Day Saints, I chose to make my earthly debut on a slice of toasted…