Jesus' Son

by Denis Johnson

And with each step my heart broke for the person I would never find, the person who’d love me.

Because we all believed we were tragic, and we drank.

Willows stroked the waters with their hair.

People entering the bars on First Avenue gave up their bodies. Then only the demons inhabiting us could be seen.

You and I don’t know about these diseases until we get them, in which case we also will be put out of sight.

All these weirdos, and me getting a little better every day right in the midst of them. I had never known, never even imagined for a heartbeat, that there might be a place for people like us.