I saw God after work the other day
had to pull over, just come from
Cumberland Farms with my slushie.
Yes I was sweaty, I had a little dirt
in my nose on my teeth, look
I didn’t need this but this happened
I was ejecting the cassette, out comes
God with Huey Lewis and the News,
I pull over, He shows me bugs, tons
of grasshoppers eating every book
all our clothes, He was feeding that
leviathan, dropped the tupperware
of grasshoppers on the earth. I tell Him
that won’t do, we’ll die God, we’ll die!
I cough, sip my slushie, sip again. He
fidgets in the passenger seat, makes
some more leg room, his right hand
opens my glove compartment
I see the fire of my Camry’s engine.
I see it over the world, in the ocean
fires, in rains fires, in faucets fires.
I lift my left hand wiping the sweat
up my forehead underneath my hat
my right hand fixes the stupid hat.
God, I say, God, you know we can’t
take that, we’ll end up like Centralia!
He promises not to do it, He pulls a
rope or something out of his pocket
asks what I see, my tongue polishes
the front of my teeth until I catch
myself, give a shrug. He says look
it’s happening! He calls the word
of the Lord a new Hapax Legomenon.
He tells me about this thirst unslakable.
This hunger beyond whole wheat.
I just keep nodding and nodding.
—
Greg Scalise ’18 is a Philosophy and Classics concentrator in Pforzheimer House.