When you and I are lying in bed, you don’t seem so tall.
These days you’ve stretched to reach me.
I’m low for you tonight.
You look for God in a kid’s kaleidoscope
And the meaning of life to fit in all those shifting shapes,
Yet to learn that Life is given the name Death at birth,
And God is his schoolyard friend,
Whispering in his ear dirty, lucky jokes.
This poem takes its first line from something I read on some scaffolding that caught my eye on my way to work one day.