In poetry before
He makes me believe it more
He wanted to be its conscious radio
And working-class clown
But those were just disguises
For something Talmudic and first-
Rate in his class who suspected that
At seven he took Holy Communion
Kneeling beside a beautiful woman
I think he’s still taking it
I think I’ll go to New York
And buy him a drink
Now we’re not faking it
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