i still hang my arms
out the window because
i need to feel the wind
i'd never call myself claustrophobic
but i've always been fonder of
wide places, as much as
my house feels like a
trench i still walk in
and breathe home
whether god is there
immediately or not
I have chosen to
believe he is present
in the most petty of
circumstances, even
then as I sat on my bed
debating the gas mileage
to his house, and instead
taking off my shorts
and turning off the light--
that each of these low blows
has been engineered and if
rolling with the punches
were any more true, (possibly
caustic) then I am willing
to take each hit or
throw a few if need


be.