LISA ZARAN

Negotiating

When I left the party where I drank too much
wine and ate too many stuffed scones
it was early morning.

The sunlight was a slap across my face
and I felt very humble.  I had a hard time
driving home because I couldn't tell

east from west, only the sun rising
in a bright fireball of wordless gesturing.
Every street had a foreign name.

When I got to the highway I realized
I was in a different part of town.
The body is essentially just essence

and can easily be put in motion  
by a couple shots of whiskey and a smooth
talking musician with black hair

and tattoos.  Driving through the morning
mist, damaged guts and broken heart,
I must have passed forty seven churches.

A god hiding in every one.
image: Fabio Sassi