A Conversation With God
We're driving.Just me and God.It's raining.It's raining hard.The windows are steaming up.The bridge engulfed by fog.The rust of the metal bridge.It beckons.It pulls me in.I argue.I scream at God and what he's offering.
And my hands fly off the steering wheel.Can’t recall getting here.If I could I would reach behind and turn my light off.My thoughts run off the beaten track.There's no lighthouse or way back.Take the hand of God and bite the feeder.No more lingering.
I'm driving.I talk to God.He's screaming.I only nod.I need to be where you are.The leaves and trees are shaking.It's raining.The bullets melt.The hunger of hunger itself.It's draining but pain has reservoirs it keeps for itself.
And my hands fly off the steering wheel.Can’t recall getting here.If I could I would reach behind and turn my light off.My thoughts run off the beaten track.There's no lighthouse or way back.Take the hand of God and bite the feeder.No more lingering.
I'm falling I’m not in myself.I'm diving.I'm underneath.The hull of a mighty ship that steams away from here.The bubbles.The surface race.They shine and they replicate.I hear it.The voice of God is laced with sarcasm in your hands.
And my thoughts run off the beaten track.There's no lighthouse or way back.Take the hand of God and bite the feeder.No more lingering.My hands fly off the steering wheel.Can’t recall getting here.If I could I would reach behind and turn my light off.