In our age, the road to holiness necessarily passes through the world of action.
MisterChu, flying through Atlanta,
remembers the last time he was there.
It was many years ago, but even then a complex airport
filled that evening with thousands of people.
Ants without a common purpose
beyond the transportation of themselves by others.
In a bathroom designated for the use of men only
Mister Chu had splashed water onto his tired face,
washed his hands as one is supposed to.
Behind him was a corner stall
an enclosure of grey chipboard partitions
poorly designed (as to privacy)
and constructed (as to construction).
A soldier (or a man dressed very accurately
in the style of a soldier)
was obviously inside, not alone,
but perhaps about to be lonely,
and thus his companion,