I sit and look out the window
at expensive houses and trees
two seats just for me
and the umbrella between my knees

I do not anticipate rain anymore
father sun, that face of God
flashes a smile on a spot
of the road where all lie shot

in the chest by arrows of love
from summer's bow, this cupid,
dogs wag their tails in humid
heat, someone spits out fruit pits.

heavy clouds of thunder still
linger in the humming air,
filled with noise and
Jesus' voice, whispering:
"You're almost there."