Priest with Lung Cancer

“Indefinite,” he said. “I would certainly not be pressured, no.

No, not be pressured.” Censured, but ventured on, yes. “Oh

     yes, I still can,” he said.

Oh, no, you don’t. Do you take me for a fool, like that stool

     on

The carpet? “Well, baby me any day but not this minute, not

     with this

Thing hanging on my shoulder and the doctor saying he

     wonders

Whether I can really still do this for 30 more weeks. Light the

     wick, I feel weak. . . .

“Someone told me the day I fly will also be on the pilot’s last

     supper, or

A helicopter will take me to heaven, and I will bring with me

Incandescence, phosphorescence, fossil-fuel incense and

     myrrh.

“Of course this is not the last time I’ll ever sing this song—

     come on,

Then, sing along, we are the champions, aren’t we, my

     friends?

And didn’t I keep showing you the end of the rope, the hope

     of love?”