Evangelism

if you were small
and scarred like raindrops
something soft might lift you up
and carry you away.

the night is bright, for as dark as it is
tonight-
some strange blue that never was before
and there is something honest
in the way the trees have all
but stripped their color off
in the way they stand ready
defensive
and weak.

everything looks two dimensional
everything looks like
a game that people play
to make you think
there's something real
out there.

they came around today, sensibly coiffed,
flowered dresses and pastel suits
parked on the side of the road
in front of my house
holy tomes tucked under fleshy arms
bottoms waggling as they shuddered
under the weight of their own convictions
from house to house.
they did not stop at mine.
i would have let them in,
watched as they squirmed uncomfortable
at the idea of drinking the tea i offered
terrified of poison
at the hand of an atheist
wondering
in the back of their minds
if jesus christ might really be
transsexual.

i didn't notice their leaving
but i was sad to see them go.

perhaps they could have taught me
how to make the two, no, the one
dimensional real
perhaps they could have held my hands and prayed
their way into some sort of
absolution
perhaps, kneeling at my feet
good little minions, followers, peons for the righteous cause
they would have seen the truth
and the light
and cast off their skins
and breathed in the sunlight
and tasted the freedom of knowing
that they are alone
and that they alone
can make things happen
and that they alone
are alive
and no burning bush or zombie son
of the invisible man in the sky
is ever going
to save them.