I got saved, throwing myself on the cheap ply-wood altar railing
along with a girl who I practiced making out with in dark basements.
I’ll never forget the catch in my grandmother’s voice that night
after the christmas pagent, in her car, alone. She said that she’s always
worried that no one else could come with her
to heaven. Now I would. I had no idea what it was
that I had done, but I was pretty sure that when
her Jesus came, I’d go with the other-girl kissing,
screaming, cursing, fighting, enraged, sad, masturbating,
rock-music listening masses. And I was happy for it.