Today the devil kissed his wife
& I walked barefoot down by the river.
I sat in silence as the willows
sang a lullaby & the kids
made love in a dirty creek.
But then came the rain. Lord, oh,
Lord, the rain. It fell and fell and fell.
I picked up my shoes & ran towards
the city.
A man in a black truck started his engine,
drove twelve feet & stopped beside me.
"Missed Noah, bud?" he chuckled, "Need a ride?"
I shook the dust beneath my feet &
accepted the offer; he handed me a towel.
Brake-park-reverse-neutral-drive.
I watched him shake the rain from
an old trucker's cap & I could
tell from the beads of rain in his hair
that the devil had kissed him too.
There was static & then a road to Nazareth.
I asked his journey: he stared out the
window, found relief & replied:
Jericho to Jerusalem.
We drove six blocks north &
eight blocks west when home found
me at First & Grace,
I offered a nickel & dime; he declined.
A reassuring grip of on my shoulder.
"Keep your hands clean, kid."
I didn't get a chance to return the towel.