By Don Thompson - Buttonwillow, California, USA - 24 May 2015



Sometimes you pray from abundance,

easily glib, thousands of words --

as if you'd cut God a check

with extra zeroes,

creased neatly, dropped in the plate,

and then forgotten.

But sometimes words come hard,

and you pray like a panhandler in the cold

begging for loose change

to make bus fare . . .

Those inarticulate prayers are best.

You sit alone

in the dark diesel hum

in an empty bus on the empty streets,

just you with the Holy Ghost

at the wheel, who says,

You can ride all night if you need to.