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God Business

And what were my reasons, again?
I don't remember you.

The days go on
an extended monsoon season,

but move away quickly--
objects in a review mirror.

The sunbird above me
casts its shadow in my eye,

screaming at the wings.
I work in a building all day

God has no business in business
is carved into every wall.

I've watched the hand of a clock
circle 25,000 times,

each time
I whisper the name of God.

Tear it down, flatten this place,
but God never does the same trick twice,

doesn't perform on command
or charge an admission.

God talks a perfect smooth riddle,
a shiny black stones,

the kind you find on 
beaches and slip slyly into your pocket.

God sleeps in a circle we sometimes
count on but rarely understand.

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