God must have tired
of all that sweet talk
and sending subtle signs,
coming instead the way
he did in a ripped white t-shirt,
banging at the car door.
I did not open it at first,
so he pulled off the handle,
then ripped the metal,
and pulled it off piece
by piece till nothing
remained of the door.
He was thirsty he said.
I gave him what I had,
half a bottle of spring water,
but he growled at me
knowing I was hiding
the tequila in the back seat.
I did not ask him
what he had to teach me.
Nor did I run
out the open door
to hide in the ditch.
I just handed him
the bottle, knowing
things would be really
uncontrollable now, and god,
he looked right at me
and took a big, long drink.