God is not dead
‘though I’m hanging
by a thread
as the entire room
waits for the smart phone
to smart off and allow
your call to make it
through the reservation
and hesitation
and speed dial
to ask, yes just ask
what was on my mind
when we passed
in the morning
cafeteria moving
to seperate chairs
in a big crowded room
bristling with mad chatter
and noisy dishes.
Maybe it’s
all in my skull
imagined as
a moment
that has no
dialogue
but contains
an overdose of nuance.
I read constantly
but lately it’s
been a habit
of reading in
rather than reading from,
that is
did you take offense
as my eyes lingered
too long as you
shifted your weight
as you sat down to
sip coffee and read the
obituaries ,
was your returning glance
a warning to
leave you alone
or was there some
interest in an adult
glancing at comic books
in public places?
I pray
to some
hasty sketch
of a deity
that I really
did give you
my phone number
if only because
I hate
feeling awful
about things
that never happened.
Maybe
it’s a moment
to let the phone ring
or stay silent
without rehearsing a disaster.
Maybe.
.
Ted Burke
.