he built a fire
to barbecue the meat
and it was
a good fire
and the meat tasted
but not as “beautiful”
as he proclaimed

nor did it make him
a Lord of Creation, nor
any kind of god
as we
stood in the background
heavily shadowed, eyes rolling
upwards towards
the icy stars

you with your millions, me
with my little Ph D
horribly reluctant to
correct him, add
true perspective

fearing to bring
an old man to tears, ignite
a sadness that
would, fatherless or fathered,
drown the Universe