Mark David Chapman

I wasn't there,
but you weren't either.
                You were in the Rye,
     you were far away from the streets
and the hotel
and the gunshots
while your body was away from you.
You killed god
though he was no god—but he WAS
a god because people WORSHIPED him

      . . . and so he remains, always, in worship and in love
while he resides in a vast and lonely place.

And so we both sit
in our own vast and lonely places—you in your Rye, and I
in my drunken room as I listen to music,
     wondering if you've even
heard it
      before.