What’s the call?
It’s coming to an even number though
I can’t recall,
if you are real,
or if you are everything,
I thought you might be?
The tables of Judah languish in the rear of the
restaurant
and nobody asks
for another drink,
but I wonder
if for one second
God cared where we sat,
how we behaved, how we rotted in the world
or how we pined for his glory but heard nothing
in response
laying naked in fields of
grain and glory
under tangerine skies of tomorrow
just because it doesn’t matter,
and why not.
The waiter walks on,
and we sigh wondering
when we’ll get some service
but it’s already gone.