022120

Quite an Impression

The body of some unknown god

Plummeted from the sky,

impaled itself on the stoplight

In the center of town,

Head crushing the drugstore

(Woulda killed Mr. Snyder

if the store had been open),

Right knee clipping the front of the Pure station,

And, I guess,

Smashing the storage tank

Under the pump,

Cos now the whole town smells of gas.

Not much left of the 7-11 either,

But the five and dime next door was no big loss;

It closed years ago,

Only thing is, can’t get through the intersection at all,

And now we have to detour 40 miles

To get to the Walmart

Across the county line.

Meanwhile,

This thing shows no sign of decaying,

And we've got no equipment

That could move it,

So its name is Mud

Far as I'm concerned,

And it's just too bad

That I don't even know

If this is my god,

And He's dead,

Like Nietzsche said,

Or if this is some other dude,

Who didn't create my universe,

And I still have to go to church on Sunday,

Even though now the drive

Is 20-some miles longer,

Which is costing me a lot of gas money,

And what kind of God

Could allow this to happen,

If He isn't dead?