It's unlikely that some sort of retribution awaits

I quivered at the early sound

of the voice of God, spoken

through the mouth of Priest.

It was heavy, a thick, menacing

sound which pointed its slimy

tongue directly into my face.

so I killed him.

I killed God, re-inventing it as

a genuine wholly ghost.

Priest said I was made in "His" image

and I didn’t like it.

I wanted to be taller.

but I liked "Bunny" DiCorpo

who lived on the second floor 

of a three-tenement house on Bedford

across from Marzilli's Bakery, and I liked

the little “Nite Owl” diner on the corner

of Pleasant and Eastern Avenue, where

I received mouth-watering kisses from the former,

and delicious hot cheddar cheese sandwiches

served on steamy hamburger buns from the latter.

"all poetry is all truth all the time."

I said that.