When revelation comes, the God of Draperies
Cannot decide the difference
Between in and out.
A patio is out though in a yard, he thinks,
Nursing his ignorance
And a mostly gone Tom Collins,
The sunshine and the cicadas and the loveliness
Competing for his rage.
But a car is out? So what about a swizzle stick?
Out of the box but in the drink,
Then out of the drink and in the mouth.
A little bit in and out, he thinks, the vinyl slats
Of the ancient chaise lounge
Stuck to him
Like bacon to a slice of Wonder Bread.
And the soul is in? And heaven is out?
But when the soul is
Out, is it then
Time for another
Drink, a tall one, but only half.
Which is the way it is, he thinks,
With gods and worshippers and revelation;
No one is ever sure
Has been revealed to whom.