Religion Of Circles

all the small kids look italian
down a back street in verona, they run
toward me like a pack of happy dogs,
a name but it isn’t mine they call out

I watch a priest
watch a robbery from
his balcony over-looking
an oily gas-station, one

tough-ass attendant
gets his nose
kicked in & the station is
robbed of 100 lire & a life

& I think about the kids again
but they’re chasing the priest
who’s running into taxis &
killing the drivers, the kids

are shouting for their parents
the parents are shouting for the police
the police are shouting
for the judge the judge is shouting for the priest.