Cadillac Cathedral, U.S. 66

When we find the dirt-bound Cadillacs
we will stroke their wheels like good pilgrims
and my cousin who loves everything Greek
wants to find Eurydice and take her out
on the town so they can dance all night
until their feet hurt; a good Christian,
I want to find the devil of the hoof and claw
and fill him with wine until he reveals
what God looks like in the morning
before he shaves or what the pure mouths
of swine taste like; and before we descend
Ill beg for a cigarette and ask a bull grackle directions
just to hear him squawk about the traffic
of cemeteries and how to get to hell
we should slow and hang a left at the center
of the earth or how if were in a hurry
we can always take a shortcut and stick it
in reverse because were halfway there.

Tomas Q. Morin studied at Texas State University and Johns Hopkins University. He has work published or forthcoming in Ploughshares, New Orleans Review, Boulevard, and Slate. (ezekiel371@yahoo.com).

Boxcar Poetry Review - ISSN 1931-1761