The Living Word

We are walking weird streets this
Wednesday, with sporadic shuffling
feet. We are lurching forward one minute
and holding back the next in a beat
characteristic of those who have tripped
terribly, scraped knees and want to dream,
secretly, again. I've never been to Taft
I tell you and you start pointing at things,
cardboard houses and kids, their jutted ribs,
college kids rushing to pristine buildings,
a pantomime guide letting your fingers speak,
ramble on until you mutter That's why. All I
understand is you make the third world
pretty. The gutter muck is sparkling, the dark
sea waving. We are toeing the edge as Jesus
walks on water trailed by lovers holding
hands. Our feet are dry and cracking
but we still smell the brine, however
faint, in our breaths, sometimes, how we
choke. We are catching our breaths,
sitting on some sidewalk. You are telling
me how you two broke up. I am remembering
how quiet it felt on the train on the way
here, only the insistent, rusty clanking
heart. You are asking if I believe in God.
On weekends, we teach kids the living
word and help build houses, you are saying,
if you want you can join us. It would be fun.
C'mon...I am remembering Neitzsche.
God is dead and I was there at the funeral,
looking up from the pulpit and madly
laughing until teachers dragged me away.
I was eleven. He would die on me again
and again: through Marx, the masses, friends,
workplaces, my ex, like two days from now,
on Good Friday. I believe there is no
greater pain, I am telling you. Yeah, those
children not knowing faith, you are shaking
your head, bead after bead of your sweat
flying and landing on my face, thighs and I
feel blessed, you are rising from the pavement,
face set against the debris of the fallen
city and I know He has risen, once again.
We are walking back to the station. Street
vendors are shouting wildly, bracing
themselves for when everyone flees
for beaches, the calm, hungry weekend.
Somewhere, a boy is bowing his head
to a customer. You are looking around
as if straining to hear a sudden secret
prayer.