WOOL BY STEVE CHRISTOPHER 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 20
Maybe I thought my father was god.
I feared him like god; he put the fear of god in me,
does that count?
I thought my brother Pete was god,
until he dragged me into the neighbors house
to steal with him.
I thought Pete Rose was god.
Turned out he was just some broke old,
no confidence, briquette of ordinary charcoal
who bet on baseball.
I think for a while I thought James Taylor was god,
But god wouldn’t lose that much hair.
I thought the kid that played drums on the Partridge family
was god, I wanted to be him, trade lives with him.
Then you fall in love.
I thought she was god. Real god. I worshipped at her feet.
She taught me more about false idols than all the others combined.
I thought my boss Wayne was god. He confided in me one day
in a weak moment that he wasn’t bound by
anything to love his children. He did confess that he loved
the girl that worked behind the desk at the Ft Wayne airport.
She was marrying someone else.
I thought my RX-7…