the car tools down the lane, <br />high above the river rushing below, <br />the windows are down, all the way down, <br />the sun shines diamonds on the river’s surface, <br />J. Coltrane and M. Davis swing wild, <br />preaching the gospel as perfectly as <br />J. Christ and J. the Baptist <br />did in the old days, <br />they howl like alley cats on <br />trash can lids, bleating perfect <br />synchronicity and mad wildness, <br />and all seems right in the world, <br />children laugh somewhere, <br />lovers kiss as though they would part forever, <br />old men breathe their last breath, content to finally go, <br />and M. D. and J. C. play on, <br />long after their horns have been silenced, <br />and somewhere J. C. and J. the B. <br />preach on too, <br />but their gospel is far more easily <br />misinterpreted.<br /><br />Darrell Gahm<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-preachers/
