Poetry
Inside Information
James G. Koch
Mother was easily deceived.
Having clear green eyes at the age of twelve
Is almost as good as owning
A glib tongue much later in life.
My eyes were of the clearest green.
Meeting by a statue of Saint Tarsicius
I and a girl from Vancouver
Missed Friday mass on a grassy slope near the bay.
And for six weeks running
I came home each Friday afternoon
Chockablock high with love.
Mistaking it for grace, mother said proudly,
"Just look at him, Mike.
What a fine priest he'll make some day."