Thursday, June 11, 2026

Painted ductwork
made a 1972 modern
clever ceiling for where
the college chapel
got tucked away between
storage and the mailroom. 

Gerry, Bob, Stagg and I
lurked there often after Sandy Cuni’s
freshman English class.  

Bob some days brought his guitar
and accompanied our warbles
of Simon and Garfunkel tunes.

Confessionals made nifty places
for hide and seek.

The tabernacle was a black box
with chrome keyhole;
all the chairs were
black plastic and chrome.

Nobody else would be there.
Except on Moratorium Day
when the place would be packed
with students and faculty
singing hopefully:

All we are saying
Is give peace a chance.