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.