We didn’t know we were moving so close 

to a river, or if it was the face of Marlene Dietrich 

or the Madonna we saw through the window, 

but in the creek that flowed out of that river, 

we found life—the cold of it gushed over our flesh,

and we found death, or was it death found us

during a commercial break, T.V. antennae 

pointed aimlessly at the skies. O’ summer nights of 

my useless life, I beg to be forgiven for the sins 

of our fathers—who aren’t in heaven, us boys 

upstairs, sharing a single pillow, blameless mouths 

so close, we breathed each other’s breath in.