& it was quiet, rain on windows and radio on low
then she turned down the volume and asked, "do you still believe in god?"

and i was stumped

do i believe in god, after it all?
after the hurricanes that broke down my house over and over again

and it was quiet again, as i turned the question over on my tongue like fine wine (even though i'm too poor for the good stuff)

and i do
i have to
i have to believe in god,
in the potential for salvation even though my sins paint my soul
in the potential for happiness that my boys couldn't find on earth
in the potential for painless forevers

i believe in god like i did santa: faith keeps him alive in my mind even if he's not real, because believing in him is easier than believing in a void

and so i said this, and she asked why and i said why and she asked, "are you sure?"

and i turned my head back to the road ahead of me, and let the miles drown me