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YMCA Holy Man
YMCA Holy Man
His TV blares resurrection blues
With phantoms of the YMCA opera
Words born of my naïveté:
“The suburbs are for the middle class.”
His removal of my anesthesia:
“Everything is for them.
You are doing some thinking on this old world.”
In his face the ghost of Frederick Douglas
An exorcist of cloudy propaganda
“Where would you want to be other than here?”
“In the mountains.”
On a morning like the last judgment
“Don’t you feel pleasure from anything?
Surely your bare feet on the floor.”
“If I were in heaven I’d be happy.”
“Some people wouldn’t be happy in heaven.”
In his wake Harriet Tubman follows
Restless to liberate another soul
His TV blares resurrection blues
With phantoms of the YMCA opera
Words born of my naïveté:
“The suburbs are for the middle class.”
His removal of my anesthesia:
“Everything is for them.
You are doing some thinking on this old world.”
In his face the ghost of Frederick Douglas
An exorcist of cloudy propaganda
“Where would you want to be other than here?”
“In the mountains.”
On a morning like the last judgment
“Don’t you feel pleasure from anything?
Surely your bare feet on the floor.”
“If I were in heaven I’d be happy.”
“Some people wouldn’t be happy in heaven.”
In his wake Harriet Tubman follows
Restless to liberate another soul
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