by David Breeden
That ain’t like me
That’s all I got to say
That ain’t like me
I’m not sure at all
If Jesus walked by
He’d ask me to join up
Or if he was
More like George Bush
I’m not at all sure
I’d make it as one
Of them twelve at all
Of if I’m too fucked up
To be among fish collectors
And tax catchers—I’m
Not sure at all I’d be asked
To join the list. Me
A guy who cares
Too much about the poor
We’ll have to leave it
Up to the gentleman who
May or may not come back
We’ll see but until then
It’s up to us to wonder
If someone who loves everyone
Has any business with that guy
The Jesus one who may
Or may not wander back by
David Breeden is a labor organizer and writes poetry when he can.