Iced

Why did you say hallelujah?
In a pagan temple beneath the sun,
To idols who you have never seen before,
Why did you drink their wine?

You borrowed my blue hat,
Your brother’s moldy overcoat.
You danced to their song.
And sang in the rain.

I saw your mother yesterday,
In the corner grocery store.
I asked of your smile, your dazzling charm.
She cried through her words.

It seems almost transcendental.
I see your face in the words,
Your fingers on mine,
But I can’t hear your voice anymore.

It does not fit into my schedule.
Time is a luxury I do not have.
Dislocation is not permissible
Memories hurt.