2/30:

driving through the small town
known for its chair caning,
the church roof tells me "Jesus
is coming" and has for years.

I think it's only polite to gracefully
accept, but what I want to know is:
shouldn't we tell Jesus he's definitely late
and vacant promises lose meaning?

Mainly, I put my confidences in the brittled
corn stalks waiting to be plowed and
the bacteria that eats me from the inside out.