I met the Mormons this eve
as they walked the
pavement
and seemed to be
the last of modernity’s
baby teeth
—those that refused to drop
and held to the gums
to prevent the poison
from seeping in
completely.
I met the Mormons
on their two year
assignment.
I was grateful for their
suits,
ties
and straight haircuts
waving us into eternity
as the devil prepares
to take those ignoring the
call.
Because in any case,
if the Mormons are wrong
it’s just about the
devil’s timing
—the devil has already
been throwing his party
for one hell of a time.
That is,
the devil of boredom,
conflict
and fear.
So many of us
despise our lives
yet fear a change
—that’s the devil.
Meanwhile,
on these bland secular
streets
the colour of purgatory,
Mr and Mr Mormon march on
—just a couple of kids
across the world
adventuring for god
and waiting for the world
to end.
They may well have their
facts bent,
but these lads—for two
years at least—
are living.
These Mormons are
preaching
something bigger than
facts
—something bigger even
than god.
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