Cigarette on a Sunday

I saw God today;

Sitting on the edge of an overpass

Watching the freeway.

 

“Look at the lights” said he,

The traffic sitting idly,

Anxiety

Drivers sharing blasts,

As trumpets.

 

“Come,

Will you sit,

As an old man’s company?”

I reached for my lighter,

He gave me his own.

A line on his hand.

 

“See you now,

As you stand over your life.

Do you wish to master death?”

His lighter in my grasp,

I stepped down from the side,

Two lines in the sand.

 

“Where do you lie,

Amongst heaven and hell?”

Inquired this man beside me.

“Honestly sir,

I never could tell.”

A cigarette drawn,

His comfort surprised me.

 

A symbol completed,

Conversation ensued.

I lit up one more.

While I looked to my shoes.

 

This man stood quietly,

A handshake between,

Strange had he spoken,

When he started to leave.

 

You’re welcome my son,

My job here complete.

You’ve one cigarette left,

Before you should leave.”

 

Now I sat there and pondered,

Was it an hour or a day?

Over these lines shared between us,

What did he truly say.

 

Feeling for a  moment,

In my pocket for the last,

A faithful habit,

A modern religion.

A cigarette on Sunday.

Reviews

[Gaia Octavia]

Very nice. I especially like the 3 closing lines. A modern religion indeed. Nice work!