keeping the faith

my brother found
God when a door to door evangelist
knocked on his dorm room door
with the good news.
he was then suddenly wearing bow ties
and plaid shirts,
strumming a guitar
and singing gospel songs.
he was pat boone.
totally disregarding the catholic
church he was raised in.
this was something new,
he was born again, which somehow made
him comb his hair differently
and wear funny looking shoes.
he carried a thick bible
with him wherever he went,
and a parcel of religious tracts.
he was not shy with his faith,
if you ran into him,
you'd know about Jesus in
two shakes of a lamb's tail.
on the boardwalk, on the beach,
in a store, the fire burned within
him.
on sunday morning, he'd awaken
all of his heathen brothers and
sisters, pull back the sheets,
turn on the lights and announce,
let's go, get up, we're
all going to church. reluctantly
we went, some of us hungover
from the night before,
living on two hours sleep
with bite marks on our necks.
in time we were all on the same
page, and he let up on
the sermons, but those early years
were rough getting hit over
the head daily with a wooden
cross and doused with holy
water to the point of
being water boarded. he meant
well. still does.