Bridge Over the River Passaic (Marco the Baptist.)

Just yesterday, I was Saved

When an Elbow broke my Nose

and Split my Chin,

And MY Blood Ran like Wine,

Down my face,

Dribbling through a crimson grin

as I cried out in pain

and spit up dark red phlegm.

It’s both sad and amusing,

Funny and confusing,

that so few can find Redemption

in a Deviated Septum,

That so Many see Defeat

In broken buildings and concrete

But I

Have been Baptized

in the waters of the lower Passaic,

Noxious, Toxic Dioxins

poured over my head,

Grabbing hold of

Salvation,

floating like tires

On that spiritual superfund liquid.

God is in the cancerous flesh

of a catfish caught in Kearny,

Hungrily devoured

By a Starving homeless Central American

beneath the bridge,

And with every bite

of that putrid, Cancer meat,

He is Saved.

A Secret for you before I go;

The Bodies of Italians

and murdered little girls

that decorate that muddy river-bottom

Died for Our Sins,

So that We can Live

And So

I Do.