It sounded like the last radio station in the West,

driving through Nevada, or maybe it was Utah.

The wireless acolyte, compelling us behind electrical static,

 

to accept his good Lord, and what we should do

to get in His good graces before it was too late

for those of us listening in the dark desert night.

I remember we both thought he sounded lonely,

and had some work to do there for himself.

 

You said we were just starting out,

so we couldn’t have done enough

to need much forgiveness from anyone.

 

That would come later,

from the particular tarnish

only love can render.