03-16 The Question I Didn't Ask

tonight, we
are men,
in a bar, rain
pouring outside,
the dive plunging,
checkered squares,
forming halos,
around our heads,
while the wind blows,
uneasy words from
our mouths, chalkboard recipes,
of whiskey and why,
on our dimly lit
china plates,
the question never
answered, because,
we are men,
in a bar, talking about,
god, while he rained,
pouring outside,
his disciples,
plunging us, out
of the checkered squares,
forming halos,
around our forearms,
while the wind blows,
from his trumpet,
words of praise,
from our mouths,
chalkboard alleluias,
recipes of whiskey, why,
and who, half-lived,
soft-boiled eggs on our
dimly lit china plates,
the question as answered,
as two men,
sitting in a bar,
asking god to appear,
in the pouring rain, drowning,
outside of the dive, plunging,
into the shadow of the checkered
squares, blinded by the white,
of the halos forming, from
our clipped wings tattooed,
on our backs, writhing in the wind,
blowing feathers from our mouth,
cautious words, scribbled on
note paper napkin chalkboards,
recipes of whiskey and why, drunk
twice on the priceless dimly lit
china of our lives, fragile in
the questions unasked,
as two men,
sit at a bar,
in the pouring rain,
forming halos around,
the wind blowing,
uneasy,
words, of whiskey, and why,
looking for god,
in the grain.