When revelation comes， the God of Draperies
Cannot decide the difference
Between in and out.
A patio1 is out though in a yard， he thinks，
Nursing his ignorance
And a mostly gone Tom Collins，
The sunshine and the cicadas and the loveliness
Competing for his rage.
But a car is out？ So what about a swizzle stick？
Out of the box but in the drink，
Then out of the drink and in the mouth.
A little bit in and out， he thinks， the vinyl slats
Of the ancient chaise lounge
Stuck to him
Like bacon to a slice of Wonder Bread.
And the soul is in？ And heaven is out？
But when the soul is
Out， is it then
In heaven？
Time for another
Drink， a tall one， but only half.
Which is the way it is， he thinks，
With gods and worshippers and revelation；
No one is ever sure
Exactly who
Has been revealed to whom.
